


Wine and Snow

by Beryll (Rynthjan)



Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels, Demons, M/M, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 09:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynthjan/pseuds/Beryll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war that shattered peace in heaven has been dormant for a long time.</p><p>But as the angels finally return to earth, long forgotten feuds and desires errupt anew and only god may know what changes they will bring...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written together with my dear friend Mel.
> 
> Angels:  
> Elijah Wood - Michael, archangel of war, leader of the heavenly hosts, wielder of the flame-sword, reknowed for his temper, passes judgement  
> Viggo Mortensen - Uriel, archangel of earth and death, responsible for taking souls from earth to heaven  
> Hugo Weaving - Metratron, the voice of god, stern.  
> Sean Bean - Gabriel, the one with the horn (wink)  
> David Wenham - Raphael, archangel of healing, the most easy going of the angels
> 
> Demons:  
> Karl Urban - Lucifer Lightbringer, first fallen angel, defiler of humanity, prince of hell... and before he fell archangel of dawn and most beloved angel to god  
> Orlando Bloom - Belial, demon prince of Lust and Fire. Brother of Asmodeus  
> Dominic Monaghan - Asmodeus, demon prince of judgement, patron demon of whores. Brother of Belial. Owner of Sin  
> Craig Parker - Baal. Barman of Sin.  
> Liv Tyler - Succubus. sits on the left of Lucifer's thrown. Dancer at Sin  
> Harry Sinclair - Incubus. sits on the right of Lucifer's thrown. Dancer at Sin.

Chapter 1  
by Mel

give us a tantrum  
and a know it all grin  
just when we need one  
when the evening's thin  
\---Sarah McLachlan

He never got tired of this.

An eternity could go by and he would be quite happy just to stand there and do this. It wasn’t because it was easy, though it was, almost insanely so. Mortals never failed to amaze him at how easily they could be tempted. It wasn’t their fault, with all the war and massacre around the place, it was delightful to plant little seeds in their minds. Heaven certainly had a strange sense of justice, but he wasn’t complaining. Just made tempting all that more fun. And most didn’t need that much work anyway.

This part of the world had been tainted sometime ago. Old brick walls of houses and shops were crumbling down around the owner’s ears, but it was too much money time and effort to see them fixed. Graffiti slashed across every available surface, colours dull from the wear of the weather. Most were tags, unidentifiable to most, but some were slogans, and most were crude. A few were stylish, the designer would make a wonderful artist one day. One of the slogans was one that had appeared in the Western world some years before. ‘Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll’.

The letters themselves seemed to pulse if you looked at them for long enough. They burned, they tempted when he was not there. The little trick brought a smile to his lips. He had been the first demon who had thought to put his temptation into an object and that in its self ranked him rather high amongst his fellow demons.

He lounged against the wall, watching the people around him with a slow appraising eye. Some that passed him need a single thought to be tempted. Others were a little more complex and would take a conversation or two. But today, as he did many days, he was content to just watch. He had his arms crossed over his chest, black crushed velvet hugging the strong muscles and graceful planes of perfect flesh. There were thick studded bands around his wrists, the studs reflecting the poor light of the sun back at the passes by.

His pants were of the same crushed black velvet, clinging to his skin low on his hips and falling unrestrained to his ankles. If your eyes were to ride back up his body you would find a head full of thick brown curls that tempted everyone to bury their fingers into. Eyes as dark as sin were framed by thick lashes that fanned against olive skin. His lips, though free of makeup were full and almost blood red. Most knew him as Belial, but here, on this Earthly plane, he was known as Orlando.

In mortal appearance, Orlando could tempt the best. In his demon form, no one stood a chance. Occasionally a child walking past would reach out and try to catch something around his knees before they were spirited away by their parents. Children were much too innocent to be tricked by a simple illusion. And those who truly dabbled in physic powers. Sometimes a person on interesting substances would notice, but they also found their hands really interesting, so there wasn’t a great problem there. And Cats. Orlando didn’t understand that one. Were cats too high and mighty to be fooled by an illusion, or too stupid to know they were being tricked? Personally Orlando thought it was the second option, he wasn’t all that fond of cats.

He flicked the tail out of reach of the small child who was currently trying to reach for it, coiling it around his calf. The base of the blood red tail was as thick as three of his fingers and came up and out from the waist band of the crushed velvet pants. Small almost perfectly sculptured scales adorned the surface. It grew smaller towards the tip like a whip would, hanging straight almost to his ankles and a small triangle tip made up the end. It was amazing what a mortal would remember as being demonic was one of the few things the demons actually possessed. That and the horns of course.

The horns emerged from either side of his forehead, the same dark red as his lips and tail. They weren’t overly big, but they curved into wicked points that Orlando knew for a fact could slice rather deeply if allowed. Now all he needed was to strip naked, cover his body in red paint, grab a pitchfork and he’d look like some out of date Halloween costume. A mortal’s perception of a demon was so ridiculous it was laughable.

Orlando smiled down at the child by his feet. He couldn’t have been more then two, just beginning to get steady on his feet. When he smiled down at him, the child lifted small hands, letting out a small squeal of delight. And then its mother reached down, scooping him up and all but running off down the street. Well, that was a little rude. It wasn’t as if he was going to tempt a child, he did have some morals. Besides, children were far too innocent to be tempted, and his parents would probably do most of the work for him anyway, considering she was currently sleeping with her husband’s best friend. The custody battle would be interesting, seeing as her lover works for a porn studio. Orlando had to laugh, mortals were such strange creatures, all their transgressions were right there in the open for the world to see.

That’s what made tempting so simple. Most people who could be easily tempted only needed a gentle shove by his demon mind in the right direction, many were already headed that way. Some took a little digging in their head to find what they desired and all that Orli then had to do was plant the idea that it was easily attainable. Some times he would talk to them, whisper what they wanted, but mostly it was a single thought in their minds. Often it took something as simple as ‘she has nice legs, your wife really wouldn’t mind’ or ‘one blow job really doesn’t make you gay’. Simple, easy, but amazingly effective. That one thought would lead to a string of others. He loved how mortals associated sin with sex, it made his job so much more interesting.

Orlando felt him before he saw him.

His presence was almost like a silver bell echoing in his mind just because he was right there, Orlando almost couldn’t believe it when he first felt him. But there he was, his presence sending the demon reeling. Orlando hadn’t been near an Angel for a very long time, and this particular Angel he hadn’t seen since he and the others had been cast from Heaven.

He wished Dominic was right beside him at that very moment as he felt his reality crash down around him.

The cause of his aggravation was the young looking man currently leading an old woman across the road. The Good Samaritan bit wasn’t so much surprising as revolting. Ick. Orlando’s nose crinkled at the sight. His clothes were those of someone who’d been locked up in a cellar all their life, white suit with a light blue vest. Horrid really.

And yet it managed to be possibly the sexiest thing Orlando had seen in a lifetime. Almost black curls clung to his head and Orlando could see sweet cupid bow lips move as he spoke gently to the old woman. He almost seemed to glow in heavenly light, the white seemed to be etched into his very skin. The wings were almost bigger then his body, the feathers fluttering around him. Though his eyes were hidden from the Demon, Orlando knew they were the brightest, clearest of blues. So pure while almost deadly at the same time.

Michael did not just look as good as the last time Orlando had seen him, he looked better, brighter, more incredible then Orlando ever remembered. It made his horns ache to see him again. He really wished Dominic was here, if for no other reason then to tell Angel boy where to shove it.

Hold on, back up two steps. What was Michael, Angel of War, doing on Earth now? Other then walking an old woman across the street obviously. Orlando had to wrack his mind, and it took a few moments before he came up with the knowledge that Angels hadn’t meddled with mortals since the time of Christ. What were they doing here now? And why Michael? He was so.. well, uptight. And naïve. Orlando would bet that bird boy still thought that Heaven was the be all and end all of existence. It could have been, if the place wasn’t so bloody boring! Or vicious for that matter.

Michael and the woman reached the curb with no problems. Curses! And the Angel was saying goodbye while Orlando was attempting not to puke, wouldn’t do to ruin his image. The woman’s hands were shaking from arthritis that was deep in her bones as they held Michael’s. Her smile was tired, but she managed to lift her frail body up so that she could press her lips to his smooth cheek.

This did not help Orlando’s rapidly depleting good mood. There was never a time when he had not longed to do that to the very same Angel. There was nothing else he desired on Heaven and Earth. Hell was another matter, but he was asleep at the moment. Not that he’d understand that. That was Michael in a nutshell; uptight, naïve and oblivious. Well, lets not forget the whole war thing, or the flaming sword for that matter. But he didn’t seem to be acting very warrior like today, and the sword was nowhere in sight. Perhaps he was approachable.

Still, Orlando waited until the old woman was halfway down the street before he even made a move towards the Angel. Wouldn’t do to get the old bird involved, poor thing had had a hard enough life without having to get her involved in something like this. So he waited before pushing his lean body slowly from the wall, before he moved towards the Angel.

Up until this point, Orlando had thought Michael had been aware of his presence. After all, he had known the Angel was there long before he saw him. But as his took another step towards him, Michael’s shoulders stiffened. Perhaps Luci had been right after all, perhaps mortals and Demons were almost so close that it was hard to tell the difference because they were simply so subtle. Damn, now he owed the bugger fifty bucks.

The tiny Angel turned towards him, the sight of the white suit almost made him cringe a second time. He had forgotten just how short Michael was, the history books managed to omit that fact. The Angel’s head barely came up to his shoulders. He was actually contemplating calling him ‘Short stuff’ but the whole ‘lets keep this friendly’ thing as winning. Pity, he really would enjoy seeing Michael’s expression at that.

And then eyes as bright as the sky and deep as the sea looked up into his and Orlando was quite simply lost. He had never realised he could miss a pair of eyes before. That’s because, since he had been cast from heaven, he’d done his best to forget Michael, and Gabriel, and everyone else he had known. He had forgotten that Michael’s eyes may as well have been the gateway to paradise. If Michael had been able to bottle up whatever power was in his eyes, demons would no longer be needed. Nothing else tempted like wanting those on you over and over again.

”Belial,” Michael’s voice breathed like snow falling. Those bright eyes blinked owlishly at him and Orlando had to shake himself out of his daze. Well that was rather spectacular, Numbskull.

”Michael,” Orlando returned, pleased with the teasing quality in his voice. He still wished Dominic was here.

”Please, call me Elijah.”

Orlando wondered if the Angel realised how absolutely stupid that sounded. Oh well, if he wanted to be dumb, Orlando wasn’t going to stop him. ”So what brings you down this way *Elijah*?” his name was dripped in sarcasm. ”And it’s Orlando, if you wouldn’t mind. I thought you’re lot didn’t meddle here anymore.”

The Angel actually had the nerve to sniff lightly, as if being in his very presence insulted him. Orlando had to ball his fists together just to keep from striking him. They had been best friends once. He, Dominic and Michael. Had the Angel forgotten them that easily? It was something that he and Dominic never forgot.

”Well,” Elijah didn’t really have to tell him, making Orlando wonder if the Angel was about to gloat. ”Upstairs isn’t too impressed with the fact that you and your lot have made this place your personal play ground. So we’ve been sent in to clean up your mess.”

Yep, definitely gloating. Michael hadn’t changed all that much. ”That’s not quite my fault now is it? If you’d ease up on the whole war thing, they wouldn’t be so easy to taint.”

The Angel bristled slightly, he did not like being told this was his fault and it made Orlando smile. Little Bit still got riled up so easily. ”I’m only getting rid of those who are tainted easily,” Elijah said hotly.

”And I, Elijah, am only doing my job.” Looking back on it, Orlando realised the next action had not been the best one to take. He would have gotten a nicer reaction if he had walked out in front of a bus. At least that wouldn’t have hurt so much. Because even as he said those last words he opened his mind, tendrils reaching out, brushing against Elijah’s. Tempting lightly, barely even testing the waters.

And Elijah spun on him, those blue eyes sparking furiously. His right hand reached for his left hip and Orlando barely had time to resister the great sword appear in it before the left hand seem to come from no where, connecting with the bottom of his jaw.

Orlando went flying, his body sailing through the air. When he hit the brick wall, he felt the impact right through to his very soul. And this was Elijah, Michael, his Little Bit, who was now brandishing the flaming sword that was taller the he was. It was pointed menacingly towards him, both hands gripping the hilt. Orlando lifted a hand, touching it to his jaw, and then his lip. When he pulled his fingers back they were coated in dark blood. Only an Angel could do that kind of damage.

”Don’t you *ever* do that again,” Elijah hissed, the sword crackling with his anger. ”I’m not going to be tainted by the likes of you, Belial.”

Orlando didn’t even stand, his chocolate eyes looking up into Elijah’s. And for that moment, Elijah could see hurt flash through them. ”You’ve never stopped being my best friend, Michael. It’s a pity I stopped being yours. Hope heaven’s nice and lonely for you, Asmodeus misses you too.” And with that Orlando actually faded from being, leaving Elijah there, alone on the street, anger fading as the demon he had once called friend did...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
by Beryll

oh my god, look what the cat dragged in  
living my life sin after sin  
Night rolls up and I do it again  
oh my god look what the cat dragged in  
No tell, motel, hotel, bed  
if it wasn't for the sunlight  
I'd swear I was dead  
I got a girl on the left of me  
a boy on the right  
and I know damn well I slept with both last night  
\---Poison

The throne room of Lucifer, the great defiler, first fallen angel, enticer of humanity, prince of hell, master of deception, Lord over all that was foul and evil was unusually quiet. No souls, caught in endless throes of lust writhed on the shiny, black marble floor, no naked bodies moving to the rhythm of ecstasy could be seen in the endless mirrors that lined the walls, no poor sinners were begging at his feet for his exalted attention.

Even the light seemed somewhat subdued, the flames from the great fire-basins standing at intervals along the walls burning low.

The hall was empty except for his two constant companions. An Incubus called Harry chained to the right armrest of his throne and a succubus called Liv chained to the left. Both were of exceptional beauty. 

Liv was tall and lean as a birch, her skin creamy white, contrasted by raven hair and eyes burning like gleaming coal. From her back rose wide wings of blood-red feather so soft they looked almost furry. She wore nothing except a pair of black spike-heels that came up to mid-thigh and a spiked leather collar around her neck, where the delicate silver chain from the throne ended.

Harry on the other side was her perfect contrast. Heavily muscled, exuding male strength and virility. He was deeply tanned and his black hair hung in wild tangled around his fierce face, giving him a somewhat savage look. His wings were blood-red as well, but leathery and ending in small crooked claws, matching the long talons on his naked feet. Just as his female counterpart, he was naked except for the beautifully wrought silver collar around his neck.

Both were trying very hard to distract the prince from his dark brooding, stroking themselves and each other, kissing, making low passionate sounds to win his attention. Their antics remained ignored. It is said that it is extremely difficult to show the prince of darkness something new and it definitely proved true in this case.

Lucifer himself was not quite sure what had made him ban the eternal party, that normally filled his home with endless laughter, moaning and – not forget – very loud music from his presence. A vague sense of trouble brewing without his involvement.

It rattled the number one trouble maker of all ages, that he could not quite pinpoint the source of this disruption in the delicate balance that existed between hell, earth and heaven. So he had crossed his long legs, clad in dark-red leather elegantly, rested his classical chin on his long-fingered hand and stared off into the twilight of war and pain that was earth these days.

Really, what was heaven thinking anyway to let things degrade to a point where even he felt more pity than contempt for the poor mortal souls who had to live in such conditions. He had always tried to make hell a sanctuary for those souls who were, just like himself, bored to death by the pristine beauty of white marble halls, empty except for the endless sound of angelic voices singing the laudation of god. To be stuck there – that was what he would call eternal punishment. Stuck in a ethereal body that could feel neither pleasure nor hunger nor thirst.

Well, the angels wanted hell to be a place of punishment. A place where they could send those who would just make trouble if they were allowed into heaven. Why they seriously excepted him, who had defied god, to actually take their orders was beyond him. He had made a cute little hell to their hearts delight where volunteer souls – mostly masochists – suffered for show. And the rest of hell was a private resort of the most luxurious and decadent kind. So much for following orders. It wasn't as if they had ever come down here to check on him anyway. Officially they were still at war.

With a sigh he leaned back in his grand throne. It was completely oversized and made of blackened iron, wrought in the form of beautiful bodies, entwined in the height of pleasure. It would have been jolly uncomfortable had there not been mounts and mounts of red velvet cushions, making it more a soft lair than a throne actually. There was enough room to invite one or more persons onto his lap.

He looked down, when he felt a tentative touch on his naked right foot. Liv had crawled up to him and was now licking his foot, caressing it with all the love and lust he knew she felt for him. She watched him for any sighs of anger at her audacious behavior but he smiled down at her benevolently. She always managed to cheer him up with her cute jokes and incredible dancing. But this time he could not shake his feeling of impeding doom.

Lucifer was about to gently push her back to Harry, who was crouching a few feet away, watching the succubus with unrestrained hunger in his eyes, when a vague shape materialized in the middle of the wide hall, growing more solid quickly and coalescing into Belial, sitting on the floor, holding his jaw. There was blood on his face and for once it was his own.

Interest mixed with a hint of worry on Lucifer's face while he watched his demon prince get up and slowly make his way over to the throne. Belial looked like he was feeling slightly dizzy and that was simply unheard of. At least since the great battle that had ended in the 'eviction' of the fallen angels from heaven.

Belial tried for a bow before his Lord but lost his precarious balance and instead knelt down before Lucifer. "My Lord, I bring news from earth," he announced in his best official voice.

The prince of hell beckoned him closer, then bend down to him and gently ran a thumb along his bleeding lips. The wound healed instantly at his touch but Lucifer was not able to quench the emotional pain he detected boiling behind the calm surface Belial presented.

"What happened?" he asked, now thoroughly intrigued.

"I had a little run-in with Michael." Belial explained, his expression rueful. "Must have gotten on his bad side again. We were just having a little chat and suddenly he was all fire-swordy..."

One of Lucifer's elegant eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. "Michael was on earth?"

Belial shrugged. "Yeah, that was the news I was going to tell you. He says heaven is getting involved in matters on earth again."

"Does he now...?" Lucifer stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder what they plan to do? Try for another Flood? They can't really make it any worse for humankind, can they?"

"Maybe they will come down and do good?" Liv piped up. She had settled herself next to the throne and had listened curiously.

Belial and Lucifer both looked at her with genuine affection. She was still young, compared to both of them. She was one of the lesser demons who had been raised to their new state in afterlife by Lucifer. He firmly believed in the just promotion of those who had earned his grace.

"Dear, angels helping mortals is a thing of ancient legends and modern TV soaps." Belial explained with gentle patience. "They do help an elderly lady across the street now and then to keep up appearance, up generally they are all about punishment and judgment. There is a reason why in the grand reliefs in the halls of heaven each and every single one of them is depicted with some kind of weapon."

"Oh," Liv blushed and started plucking at her fluffy wings, obviously embarrassed.

"Don't worry, dear," Lucifer ruffled her dark hair affectionately, "I'm happy that you have never had to deal with one. Makes you just so much cuter."

He eyed Belial darkly. "Although your news might mean, that this will not stay so much longer."

A shadow passed the demon's face and Lucifer felt deep sympathy for his old friend and comrade. It was well known to him, what Belial as well as Asmodeus had been feeling for Michael, before he had cast them from the heavens. None of them had ever dared to tell the leader of the heavenly hosts about their indecent longings, but they had ever been obvious to Lucifer Lightbringer. It must have been hard for Belial, to have been struck by Michael yet again.

"We will have to wait and see what will come of this." Lucifer said slowly. He was about to say more, when he felt a strong ripple of power run through his realm. This kind of disruption could only stem from one source. A very unwelcome visitor.

The prince of hell didn't even need to extent his senses further to discern who had just entered hell. The fiery, searing white signature was more than clear.

"Go, tell Asmodeus what you have learned." he told Belial softly.

The demon's eyes were full of rebellion at this dismissal. "But that is..."

"I will deal with him. Now go. He will just make more trouble if he finds you here."

Belial nodded sullenly and dissolved into red mist that slowly drifted upward.

He had just disappeared, when the high portal leading into the throne room was shaken by a single loud knock. Lucifer didn't bother to sit up straighter in his throne and the person outside did not bother to wait for an answer. The portal flew open and bright silvery light flooded the hall. Liv and Harry quickly scrambled closer to the throne to seek protection with their master, but Lucifer watched in muted boredom as Michael strode in the room.

The archangel of war was bristling with light and crackling energy. He was carrying his burning sword naked in his right hand. His white wings were slightly spread and his gait was that of a predator ready to pounce. He knew he was far outside his territory and acted accordingly.

A light frown appeared on Lucifer's brow as he watched the angel approach. The naked feet of the heavenly creature left burning white marks on his prized dark marble floor. Not that it would be a major effort to repair the damage but it was just... impolite.

Liv and Harry were both snarling softly at the unbidden guest, when Michael came to stop a few feet from the throne, but he ignored them completely, his bright searing blue eyes fixed on the prince of hell.

'He behaves as if he owns the place', Lucifer thought with more than a little anger but on the outside he stayed completely calm.

"Where is Belial?" Michael asked without preamble.

Lucifer put on a bright smile. "My thoughts exactly. It's so nice to see you again. How have you been, dear friend? How's it hanging in heaven?"

Michael's wings flustered even more at this insult and his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. "I will not ask again, damned one, where is Belial?"

Leaning back comfortably Lucifer's smile broadened. "I am sure that is none of your business, prissy one." he answered evenly. "And now leave my domain or suffer the consequences."

"You dare threaten me?!" The sword rose dangerously and burned even brighter. 

Lucifer knew that the archangel was short of temper but right now he didn't feel any need to back down. "Better be careful, pal, I can see none of your heavenly hosts here right now, you are outnumbered. Do you really want a fight?"

He was almost surprised when Michael breathed deeply and obviously forced down his own anger. "Look, I only want to talk to him." he tried again and Lucifer would have been willing to relent, had he not seen the blood on Belial's lip and felt the pain in his heart.

"I think he has had enough of you for today." he said, softening his voice slightly.

For a long moment archangel and demon lord stared at each other, then Michael spun on his heel and strode out of the hall just as arrogantly as he had come.

Lucifer reached down to the head of Harry, that suddenly pressed against his knee, seeking comfort. "That went better than I had feared." he whispered, caressing the tangle mane of dark hair of his favorite incubus, enjoying the way Harry rubbed against him. He looked down at the incubus fondly. "Now let's get rid of some of this tension of yours, my cutie. Come to Daddy!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
by Mel

It's easier to believe  
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness  
That brings me to my knees  
\---Sarah McLachlan

The place that Belial appeared in was quite a little different from Lucifer's main hall. The Dark Lord's abode was full of life, this place was almost empty. It was part of the perks of being one of Lucifer's most well loved princes.

Silken hangings of red and gold made up the walls of their room. The bed that took up most of the space was soft and amazingly comfortable. The sheets were silk and rumpled. Cleaning was rarely something on a demon's agenda.

On these rumpled sheets, facing the fire that burned low in the corner, was the demon Asmodeus. The wearing of mortal clothing was usually forgone by demons whilst in hell. However, both Belial and Asmodeus enjoyed the simple pleasure of removing clothing manually. His brother's pale skin shone in the dim light, he wore no shirt as he lay there on his stomach. Red leather pants rode low on his hips, barely even covering the curve of his arse. The top of his head was full of spiky hair, his roots dark while the tips were a frosty blonde. Two horns peaked out of the top of his head and his ruby red tail danced lazily back and forth.

"So how was your morning on Earth, brother of mine?" Belial could hear the teasing grin in his voice, which was confirmed to him when Asmodeus looked over to him. Stormy grey eyes went from teasing to worried in a matter of moments. "Damn! What happened to you?"

The movements following were swift and amazingly graceful as Asmodeus rose, bare feet padding quickly over to his brother, almost a whole head shorter then Belial. Delicate hands wrapped around Belial's arm and he allowed himself to be guided to the bed. He sighed as he fell down into it. Asmodeus fell with him, throwing one leather-clad leg over both of Belial's, curling up to his side like a cat. One hand threaded in Belial's short curls, the other drew patterns on his chest. The taller of the two looked down into full grey eyes. Asmodeus was chewing his lip, a sure sign of his worry. Belial reached out, easing the lip from between the teeth, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb until it drew a smile to them.

"Michael has returned to Earth, I had a run in with him this morning."

Asmodeus made a soft noise, his fingers taking to kneading the soft flesh of his scalp. "Little Bit hurt you?" He pressed his lips to the jaw. "Are you all right?"

Belial had to smile at that. "I guess, you should have seen Luci get all high and mighty when Michael came down into hell though." 

There was a soft chuckle as Asmodeus' breath tickled the bare flesh of his neck. "Lucifer mustn't have been impressed by that. He always did enjoy taking the angels down a peg or two." The voice then softened somewhat. "But are you all right, Belial?"

Another sigh. "It's like he doesn't remember what friends we were, Ami, like all that time means nothing to him. He threatened me with his sword, for goodness sakes!"

Asmodeus' voice was soft and cooing. "It's all right, you're home now." And he kissed him, lips sliding on and over the soft ones above him. Two sets of eyes closed, both falling into the gentle, loving, touch.

"I really wished you'd been there, Ami," Belial's lips brushed Asmodeus' with each word.

"Me too," the grey eyed demon returned. "Michael is going to pay dearly for hurting you, brother dear."

A cheeky smile and Asmodeus saw the Belial he knew and loved beyond measure shine through the gloom. "Don't do anything too vicious, my little imp. You love him too, remember?"

Asmodeus pouted, looking thoroughly fuckable. "If you say so, Bell." He didn't sound to disappointed. In fact, he seemed far from it as he slowly ground his hips into Belial's, enticing a delicious groan from the taller demon. "So, how did he look?"

"Hot," Belial breathed, allowing himself to get lost in the sensations his brother created. "I didn't think anyone could look so good in a baby blue suit." Asmodeus pulled a face before licking the pulse that raced at his brother's neck, his hips continuing their slow, torturous, grind against him. "And when he got angry, Ami, you should have seen his eyes flash. I didn't know whether to fight him or slam him down and ravish him. Damn it Ami, I can't talk to you when you're doing that!"

"What?" Asmodeus lifted his mouth from the rapidly bruising flesh of Belial's neck, grinning as he moved suddenly, straddling Belial's hips, bringing them into close contact. The groan that hissed from parted lips was caught by Asmodeus as his own lips covered Belial's, probing furiously. He had had enough talk of Angels who hurt the people he loved, even if the said Angel was someone he too adored.

There was very little finesse to the coupling, Asmodeus wanted nothing more than to drive all thoughts of the Angel from his brother's mind, at least for now. Wanted to erase the sadness from his eyes and replace it with something primal. And so he tangled his fingers in the short curls of his brother's head, his fingers grazing the sensitive horns, making him groan against the exploring lips.

"Let's get you naked," Asmodeus whispered. He took his time, easing the velvet over Belial's body, the taller boy easing his body up so that it the tight material came off with little effort. The studded bracelets disappeared without thought, leaving Belial bare-chested. Asmodeus let his hands trail over the silken olive skin, marveling at the texture in the firelight.

"Oh Ami," Belial whimpered, arching as the fingers scraped teasingly over his nipples.

"I know, Love," Asmodeus kissed him softly, slinking down his lover's body, leaving a burning trail as his lips roamed down the body before him. "I'm right here, I'm not going to let you fall."

His grey eyes caught and kept Belial's, his touch gentle, loving. The taller demon's breath caught at the deep love he saw in those expressive eyes. He was not worthy of such devotion and yet felt exalted to be given it. "I love you so much, Ami," he breathed softly, the raw feelings making the words catch.

"I know," Asmodeus's lips caressed. "I love you too." His tongue joined his lips and he began to lick at the planes of flesh that quivered beneath his touch. Goosebumps rose at the playful touch and he shivered even in the heated room. "You like that don't you?"

"Yes," the whimper was no surprise. "Ami, don't stop, please."

He didn't, he let hid lips move over his lover's body enticing sounds that he knew, touching sensitive hollows and curves that he knew would bring Belial to the brink. He sucked at the rim of his navel, tongue dipping in as his nimble hands rid Belial of the rest of his clothing.

Belial looked down at his brother, falling into the sweet grey eyes of the one he loved. "Why are you still dressed, Ami?"

Asmodeus grinned cheekily as he shimmied out of the red leather pants. "Are you happy now, Bell?"

"Very," he murmured as Asmodeus once again straddled his legs, this time at the knees, bending over Belial's now straining erection. He was slow at taking it into his mouth, his lips hungrily devouring him. Belial groaned, arching up the heat, craving the touch more with every passing moment. And Asmodeus knew it, smiling around him, continuing to go slow. He took his time to love Belial.

Belial was a mess by this time. He was quivering, arching, all but begging Asmodeus. All he sought was completion in the body he adored. Without even realizing it, the thoughts of Michael were completely gone from his mind in favor for his brother's touch.

Asmodeus couldn't handle it any more, his brother's cries were driving him steadily insane. He let him go, reveling in the groan of disappointment from Belial. He rose above him, waiting till he had his full attention. Only when he had the full attention of the demon beneath him, the chocolate hazy eyes looking up at him, did he begin to lower his body down on to Belial.

Asmodeus had to bite his lips to keep from screaming out, letting himself lower slowly. His body welcomed Belial, stretching around him. Only when he was full did he lean down, palms braced on Belial's chest, and covered his mewing lips with his.

Belial was allowed to set the pace, moving slowly beneath the brother whose lips were roaming against his own. He could feel the love pour from Asmodeus' very soul, slipping into him. He wrapped his hands around his brother, pulling him as close as he could, rocking into him. He broke the kiss slowly, the pleasure building, his lips fastening around one of the two horns on Asmodeus' head, sucking the sensitive horn slowly.

"I love you," the words became a mantra against his flesh as Belial continued to hold the smaller man in his arms. "Bell." His name was a soft whimper as Asmodeus came, his body squeezing his, pulling him with him. "Oh, Bell."

Belial felt the exhaustion of the day settle into his limbs as he snuggled in his brother's hold. It was not long before his eyelids closed and he felt himself drift off to sleep.

Asmodeus waited till he felt his brother slip into the rest he needed before easing off him. With a thought he was dressed, black slacks and mesh shirt meant to tempt even the most chaste of humans covered his light skin. He smiled down at his brother, letting his lips press a kiss to his forehead. Another thought brought the fire in the corner higher, and it would burn so till he returned, keeping his brother warm.

His expression became severe as he turned from Belial, finally letting the fury, which he had kept aside in order to comfort, rise to the surface. "How dare you hurt the one I love, Angel, and I don't care if I did love you once. I'm not going to let you hurt him and have it go unpunished."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
by Beryll

What if god was one of us  
just a stranger on the bus  
trying to make his way home

\---

Sunlight filled the little coffee-shop with warmth and light. It was just passed lunch time and most of the tables were void of guests but still filled with the remains of various meals. Two waitresses were cleaning the place at a leisurely pace, relaxing from the frantic lunch. In one corner a woman sat with two little children, who were finishing their ice cream. At the counter an elderly man was chatting to the waitress carrying out the cakes for the afternoon.

Next to the window sat a blonde man of indistinguishable age, thumbing through a cheap paperback novel, absentmindedly stirring heaps of sugar into his coffee. He wore faded blue jeans and a light green sweat shirt. His hair was long and kept in a pony tail. He exuded an aura of friendly relaxation and every time one of the waitresses passed him they smiled at him and he would smile back.

When the mother with her children left, he did not smile at her, for Gabriel knew well what was in her heart. Just this morning she had been beaten by her husband and had only taken the kids our for a treat to quench the fear that grew in their hearts too. She feared men and it was not Gabriel's wish to frighten her.

Most angels envied humans for the freedom of will that god had granted them. For their ability to make choices where the path of an angel was preordained. But they had not watched humans as extensively as Gabriel had. They did not see that this freedom inflicted as much pain as happiness. Even the archangels had paid mortals only fleeting attention. For Uriel they were a task appointed, no more. Raphael saw them as cute things to be cuddled and loved but he certainly did not take them serious. And Michael – Gabriel smiled to himself – for Michael the world was divided into enemies and victims. Either he fought them or he fought for them. 

And in the last two millennia they had completely abandoned earth. God had decreed there should be time for humanity to learn the lessons that his son had brought to them. So everybody had stayed in heaven, minding their own business. Except Uriel of course, who still escorted the souls of the deceased from earth to heaven, if they were not to heavy with sin.

So Uriel was the only one who knew, that Gabriel had not quite followed orders and had still been a regular visitor to the earthly realm. He had not interfered. He would never defy god like the fallen ones had done. But he had watched and wept for the pain and horror that humans inflicted on one another. How much he had wished to soothe their hurts, to show them a brighter way. But it was forbidden. So he had done little things. A kind word here, a polite suggestion there and changed many things for the better.

Drinking some of his coffee he thought back to a small restaurant not so unlike this one but half a world away, where he had sat with a young, hopeful Russian politician, who had almost despaired at the monumental task he had set before himself: to break the ice between east and west, to break down a wall that had kept the world in a icy grasp of fear for half a century. It had been so easy to help him find his own courage again. Even without using all the power that was at his command. Could this be wrong? Gabriel refused to believe that god would look with scorn on such an action.

But now times were changing again and Metatron had spoken with god's voice again. His command had been simple. Return to earth and see how things fare. Gabriel, as all other angels, was sure that more orders would follow and he feared the anger of god at the state that his world was in. How could he forgive all that had happened? The great flood had been prompted by less offence. Gabriel feared for humanity. But as ever he would do his duty and announce to them what would be their fate. Even if they never listened properly anyway.

He looked at the clock over the counter, frowning lightly. Where was Michael? He should have been here for lunch and now it was almost two hours past. What had the little fire-starter gotten into now? It was not that he feared there would be anything that could hurt the archangel of war, more that he feared what Michael might do if somebody sparked his legendary temper.

Gabriel drank the last of his coffee and was about to get up to go looking for his friend, when the door to the coffee shop was pushed open with some violence and Michael stomped inside. He was bristling with fury, barely keeping the appearance of a mere mortal in place. Gabriel wouldn't have been surprised if the floor had burst into flames where Michael's feet touched it. It wouldn't have been the first time something like that happened after all.

"Michael." he softly called the other angel by his mortal name, to calm him and bring to his attention that he was dangerously close to revealing himself.

The other angel stared at him uncomprehending for a moment, his sky blue eyes burning with holy rage. Then he seemed to realize where he was and Gabriel watched him clamp down on his anger hard.

"Gabriel." The archangel of war greeted Gabriel by his human name and in his apologetic tone acknowledged, that he had lost his temper once more.

Michael sighed deeply and sat down across from Gabriel, burying his face in his hands, concentrating on his breathing to calm down. Gabriel watched him curiously. Whatever had rattled him like this must have been pretty bad.

A waitress came over, eyeing Michael with a mixture of distrust and awe. He was painfully beautiful to the mortal eye but instinct invoked fear as well. "Some tea for my friend and another coffee for me, please." Gabriel told her, smiling reassuringly.

"So... what happened to you?" he asked Michael, when she had left.

The angel looked up and now there was deep pain in his expressive eyes. "I met..." he checked himself just before saying a name that had no place on earth. "I met one of... them..."

Gabriel raised a curious eyebrow. "Not a surprise." he said gently. "They have run this place ever since we left. You should have expected..."

"No." Michael held up an interrupting hand. "One of THEM. Of the two..."

"Oh." Now pity filled Gabriel's heart. He knew exactly who Michael was talking about. Maybe even better than Michael himself. He had been there when god had made them. Three angels to be his strong arm. Three angels to be his weapons, to lead his armies. One lord of the heavenly host and his two lieutenants, his two hands. Michael had been crippled ever since they had rebelled against god. Ever since he had been forced to cast them from the heavens.

More crippled then he had ever admitted to anyone, even himself. Gabriel knew human passion enough to recognize the same fire in the eyes of the two angels fighting their captain. They had loved him with all their heart and had stopped fighting that forbidden emotion the same moment they had started fighting the will of god. Gabriel had always feared that the same fire lay hidden in Michael. His anger now fuelled that suspicion.

"And?" he prompted Michael.

"He tried to... touch me." Michael explained. "I hit him. Pretty hard."

Gabriel snorted. A demon trying to taint an archangel! The denizens of hell really had grown arrogant if they thought they could do that without retaliation. "No less than he deserved." he noted wryly, but Michael's eyes were haunted.

"I didn't mean to hurt him. I was just so... shocked." 

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then he swallowed it, while the waitress brought tea and coffee. Michael wondered what it was, he had wanted to say. Somehow he was sure it would have been important to know.

"You should not worry about their well-being." Gabriel admonished, when she had left them alone again. "We are still at war, remember?"

Michael nodded slowly, his gaze hardening against the feelings stirring in his heart. "You are right." he whispered. "I should have ripped his heart out instead. One less evil in this world." But he did not sound as if he believed in what he said.

Gabriel watched him with worry. "Maybe you should leave this particular fight to somebody who has not as much personal pain involved in the matter." he suggested gently. "You do not have to fight all your battles alone, you know."

The archangel of war just stared into his tea as if he could read answers to his questions there. Gabriel made a mental note to keep an eye on him. It would certainly not do to loose an archangel to the darkness of anger or the taint of the demons. 

"So what did you see on earth?" he steered the conversation to safer territories.

For a good hour they exchanged their observations and found that they agreed in their assessment. God had punished humanity for lesser offences in old times. There was no telling what he would rain down on earth this time.

As Gabriel had expected Michael welcomed a cleansing. He spoke quite fondly of rains of fire and great floodings. Gabriel tried hard to stay polite, but in the end all he could do was excuse himself with important business still waiting for his attention, to stop himself from shouting at the other archangel in anger. How could he dismiss human life so careless? But that was Michael, that was what he had been made like. He was not to fault so Gabriel left in a hurry.

Otherwise he might have noticed the dark, brooding figure, leaning against a lantern post across the street, watching the coffee shop intently.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Your angels speak with jilted tongue  
The serpent’s tale has come undone  
You have no strength to squander  
\---Sarah McLachlan

\---

He waited outside for him, his back pressed against the brick wall. Asmodeus had taken a moment to imagine his favorite long leather jacket on his body before he passed into the mortal realm. And as he had, he changed from Asmodeus the demon, he became Asmodeus.

Asmodeus suited the demon well. The mortal man he was supposed to be was short in comparison to his brother, the light in his grey eyes usually dimmed somewhat. Not today however, today he let the light pulse as it did through his body. He let his fury shine for all to see.

As such, most mortals steered completely clear of him.

That suited Asmodeus as well. He didn’t desire any form of contact at the moment, least of all petty mortal conversation. He was only here for one reason, and he was sick of that reason drinking bloody tea with another Angel. It didn’t even have any alcohol in it! What was with these Angels, damn goody two shoes!

Though furious, Asmodeus was not stupid. He could not take on two high Angel’s at once. They’d massacre him. So he had to wait to get Michael alone. Thankfully, it didn’t take too long. The other Angel left the café in a fluster, Asmodeus would have laughed at his misfortune if he could be bothered.

Instead, he waited until he couldn’t feel the purity of the Angel floating around any more before crossing the street. He entered the café, smiling at the waitress, and walked on towards the table. She made a move to stop him, but it was almost as if she saw something in his eyes that made her turn from him. Asmodeus was glad. The woman didn’t need the extra stress of pissing him off today.

He paused for a moment, looking at the Angel nursing his cooling cup of tea. He seemed a little lost, like he’d lost something in himself and was trying to find it. His brother had said that Michael had looked good, better then ever. But as he looked him over, Asmodeus saw sorrow and confusion. Though he would have liked to say he enjoyed seeing the Angel squirm, the image he made tugged silently at his heart.

But it didn’t stop the smoldering fury. Michael had still hurt Asmodeus’s brother, and that was worse then hurting himself.

So he sat opposite the Angel.

It took a few moments for Michael to realize that there was even anyone sitting in front of him. Asmodeus was patient, he waited, letting his blood boil. Michael looked up, blue eyes uncomprehending. Then recognition seemed to hit him like a truck. Asmodeus smiled, his lips curving dangerously.

”Asmodeus,” Michael whispered his name, somewhere between awe and surprise.

Good.

”It’s a pleasure to see you again after all this time Michael,” Asmodeus said silkily, his voice purring slightly. 

He didn’t seem to know how to handle this. Of course he wouldn’t. His encounter with Belial had been easy, he could react with anger. Asmodeus was being, well, nice for lack of a better word.

Asmodeus found Michael adorable when he was frustrated and confused. He wondered if Belial had been right, if he looked just as good, if not better, angry. It wasn’t going to take much longer to find out. ”I heard you’ve had an interesting day.”

The defenses went up quickly and he eyed Asmodeus with more than a little suspicion. ”You did, did you?”

”Yes,” Asmodeus’s soft voice did not change. ”I heard from one very distraught brother of mine. Do you realize that you ruined his day?”

”He was lucky I didn’t ruin anything else,” Michael murmured dryly.

Asmodeus continued as if Michael had said nothing. ”And did you know, that in ruining his day, you’ve ruined mine?” That small, dangerous, smile again. ”Did you want to go somewhere else?”

”What?”

”Somewhere away from here. It’s just, when I whip your ass, I don’t think either of us want a whole heap of onlookers.”

~~~~~

They stood before each other, wind ripping between them. Gone were the busy streets and people. No longer were there high buildings of steel and glass. Here there was infinite nothingness, nothing but dunes of sand as far as the eye could see. It suited the dry heat of Asmodeus’s fury as shed the jacket from his slight form. He eyed his angry opponent carefully.

Michael’s clothes were white, they covered his body, making him glow beneath the sun. Gone were the days of heavy chain mail, Asmodeus noticed, and Michael looked much more at ease in the light, flowing silk. He held the sword with practiced ease, watching Asmodeus as he watched him.

Enough screwing around, Asmodeus thought, the sword appearing in his own hand. He would have much preferred his glaive, the staff with the curved blade felt so much more comfortable in his hands. But it would have stood no chance against Michael’s fiery sword.

He decided quickly it would be stupid to wait and see what Michael was going to do and, with a furious shout, he launched his body at the Angel. Michael seemed surprised but blocked the blow of the sword effortlessly. And missed the flying fist that connected with his stomach, knocking him backwards.

Asmodeus landed easily on his feet, not letting the one small victory go to his head. He’d be incredibly lucky to land another hit like that. Michael caught his balance, fury filling his eyes, radiating from his being. You felt that didn’t you little Bit, the thought barely had a chance to appear before Michael was upon him, sword connecting and bearing down on his, hurting him with the shear force of it all.

”Why do you want to fight me, Asmodeus? And don’t go giving me that ‘ruined day’ bullshit.” Michael growled.

Asmodeus had to pull back, breaking the fierce contact of their swords before swinging up and around. Michael blocked, blue eyes narrowing, but Asmodeus didn’t bother with an answer. Again and again, he pressed the small advantage he had. Michael was not fighting back as well as he could. He was too busy trying to figure out why they were fighting.

Finally one of Asmodeus’s blows got passed Michael’s defenses, nicking at the flesh of Michael’s cheek. The Angel snarled, one hand reaching out, wrapping itself around Asmodeus’s neck, pulling him forward so he was right in his face. ”WHY?”

For a moment, Michael saw the demon’s fury dissipate and he could see sorrow beyond measure in those full grey eyes. ”You were our best friend and you’ve thrown us away like a pair of dirty rags. You’ve meant *everything* to the two of us and you just don’t care!” He struggled out of the hold the Angel had him in, standing almost defeated before him. ”We’ve loved you almost all our lives, Michael.”

Michael could only stare at him. They loved him. Had always loved him. And he had never noticed, never even thought of it. No, that wasn’t completely true.

They had sat together once, at the beginning of time, watching everything begin. ‘Do you ever wonder what it would be like to love, Michael?’ Asmodeus had asked him, Belial beside his brother, watching on with interest.

‘No,’ he had told them, ‘we weren’t made to love.’ And he had ignored the look the brother’s had shared up until this very moment. They had loved each other then, and he as well, and Michael had been too blind to see it before his eyes.

Shock, fear, sorrow and, above all, truth, ran through Michael and, even as he stared at the defeated figure of Asmodeus, he did the only thing he could do. He ran.

Asmodeus was staring at where Michael had been and sighed, his body shaking with sorrow and pain. Michael had managed to defeat both brothers without even trying, quite simply by being the Angel he was. The single tear that glided down the demon’s face dried up before it even hit the sand and Asmodeus turned, he too leaving the empty wasteland and his shattered heart behind.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I see your face in every flame  
with no answers I have only myself to blame  
of all the men I've known  
they are not you  
I'd rather be alone  
\---Type O' Negative

\---

Michael's wings beat the air mercilessly as he climbed the sky. He was not sure what he was seeking but he needed to get away from earth. Away from this dangerous confusion that a demon had inflicted on him. Needed to find cooler air, needed to regain his balance.

Asmodeus words had hurt him deeply. Deep in his heart he knew they were true, that the demon believed what he had said. And maybe there was even truth in his accusation. But already Michael was pushing that truth far from his heart and mind, reaching for the anger that always burned bright inside him. To accept his own failure would have been too painful.

Instead he raged at the insult of having run from a demon. How had Asmodeus managed to confuse him so much with his useless prattle? How dare he even hint at failure on Michael's part? Had it not been Asmodeus and Belial who had betrayed him? Had it not been his two most trusted friends and comrades who had abandoned him without consideration to throw their lot with Lucifer when he had been banished from heaven?

His anger boiled in Michael and he shouted his rage to the clouds. How dare they?

As if it had been only a day ago he remembered how they had turned their backs on him, who had only done his duty.

He - like the other archangels - had been called to the antechamber of God's inner sanctum. Only Metatron was allowed to enter there. Metatron and Lucifer. Lucifer, who had been the first angel created by God. Lucifer, who was loved and adored by all angels and by the creator. Lucifer, who fought with God endlessly. Lucifer, who would never submit without arguing, who would always fight for what he believed to be right. Even against his own creator.

Even from outside had they heard the Lightbringer shout at the unseen entity that was God. And then the portal had opened and Lucifer had emerged only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw the other archangels assembled with their grim expressions that did not bode well.

The portal had closed behind him soundlessly and Metatron had told him what he had told the others before. That God was done with listening to his rebellious angel, that Lucifer had taken his game one step too far. That he was to be punished and expelled from heaven forever.

The expression on Lucifer's face in that first moment had been nameless. To this day Michael could not have said, if it was pain or anger or sadness. But he had decided rather quickly, raging against God in the most horrible words that had ever burned Michael's ears. In that moment he had been sure that the verdict of God was right and true, even if he had doubted it for a short second when he had first heard it.

But Metatron's voice had been even louder and harsher: "For all to see you shall be punished. You shall lose your wings and never again sore high. You shall be cast from the heavens and exist in endless darkness, forever banished from the divine light." 

It had been Gabriel and Uriel who had taken hold of Lucifer and the Lightbringer had suddenly fallen silent, staring at the other archangels in defiant hatred. The light in his eyes had been unholy, burning with a wrath unmatched. "Dare none of you stand up against this injustice?" he had asked, rooted so deeply in his sin against the creator that he did not even ask forgiveness then.

None had answered. Gabriel and Uriel had forced him to his knees, exposing his back, his pure white wings to Michael's sword. 

"Thus is the command of the Lord." Metratron had finished and then Michael had done as he was commanded hacking off the wings of the Lightbringer, causing him untold pain. He had not even cried out. His face had been stark white when Uriel and Gabriel pulled him to his feet again and his eyes clouded, but he had not made a sound when they dragged him outside. Not even then did he ask for the mercy of God.

All the hosts of the heavens had waited for them to witness the fall of the most beautiful of them all, to watch as their shining morning star was extinguished.

What none of the archangels had anticipated was the murmur of disagreement that went up when they saw the blood run down from the stumps where Lucifer's wings had been, the barely suppressed anger from some quarters, when Metatron again announced the verdict of God. But they had paid them no heed. They had cast Lucifer from the heavens as God had decreed and he had plummeted towards earth to shatter and suffer.

And then Belial and Asmodeus had done the unthinkable. Without hesitation they had jumped after him, catching him and breaking his fall, carrying him down safely, their own wings shiny against the morning sun.

Michael's heart constricted painfully when he remembered it. How they had held Lucifer close, defying the will of God, abandoning the grace of heaven for this wretched traitor. And they had not remained the only ones. It had been more than a hundred angels who had immediately followed them and several more had slunk away in the next hours.

Most of the archangels had been beside themselves with rage. Only Uriel had kept a semblance of reason, cautioning them against striking against the traitors, telling them to wait for the voice of their maker. It had not taken God long to respond to this incredible betrayal. His command had been swift and clear.

All the rebellious angels were to be banished from heaven and driven from earth as well. They were to be confined to the underworld to live forever without light or happiness. Their heavenly beauty was to be stripped from them and they should forever exist in terror of the heavenly host.

The following war had raged for a long time. They had stripped them of their divine beauty, exposing their evil for all the world to see. They had driven them from the sky and even from earth. But even Michael's hosts had not been able to confine them to the underworld. Demons they were called now. Not brethren anymore but vile creatures to be despised and hunted and exterminated. 

And now one of them tried to tell Michael that it was all his fault? That he had made a mistake? That he was to blame? No. That was preposterous.

And still. The pain and sadness in Asmodeus' eyes had been true.

Soaring high on the wind Michael past the gates of heaven and as always the clear air and pristine white of heavens architecture helped him regain his composure and calm his raging heart. His was called the archangel of passion by his hosts – firestarter by the other archangels – and sometimes he wondered why God had burdened him with such a flaring temper. But usually the storm passed quickly and left a tired contentedness. Not this time, though.

Michael still felt wary and unhappy when he touched down in one of the well-kept gardens. Searching for some sort of comfort he had spied the one angel who might be able to help him bring some order back into his confused mind.

The dark figure sitting on a white bench could only be one angel – Uriel, archangel of death and sleep, third angel created by God and regarded most highly by all other angels for his wisdom and gentleness. He was the only angel who did not wear white. His wings were as shiny as all the others, but he had always preferred black for his clothing, signifying his somber duties. Black robes had changed to a dark suit over the millennia, but still he was the only thing dark in the light of heaven.

When Michael landed some paces away from him he looked up, cocking his head curiously. The expression of his dark eyes was unreadable and his posture only told of calm interest, but when Michael came closer one of his eyebrows rose in amusement.

"And for whom have you been crying bloody tears?" he asked, his voice mellow and soothing to the ear.

Michael touched his cheek in surprise, only now remembering the cut Asmodeus had scored on him. The wound had long healed but a small trickle of blood had dried on his cheek like bloody tears.

Frowning Michael sat down next to Uriel, rubbing the marring blood from his face. "No tears, just the marks of battle." he explained, but there was a tell-tale waver in his words that left Uriel's expression doubtful.

For a while they sat quietly, Michael collecting his thoughts and Uriel waiting patiently for the younger archangel to ask his advise.

"I have met Belial and Asmodeus today." Michael said at last. "One I have beaten, one I have left crying. Shouldn't I be proud of myself?"

Uriel's face showed no change of expression. "Should you?" he asked back.

"I should." Michael answered truthfully. "But I'm not."

Again silence lasted between them while Michael tried again to come to terms with his conflicting emotions. Strangely enough Uriel's presence was sufficient to calm him so he could think.

"Asmodeus says they loved me." he explained softly. "But if they loved me, how could they betray me? Should not their first love be to God? How can they love anything before God? How can they place anyone above God?" He fell silent for a moment, shuddering. "How can they exist outside the light of God?"

"Maybe they confuse love with lust." Uriel answered. "Maybe they are just better actors them you can see through. Maybe they love each other more then they will ever love you. Or maybe the light of the Lightbringer shines as soothing as it ever did, warming them as surely as God's love warms us..." 

The last words were spoken softly and Michael felt an icy unease creep up his back. Such words should not be spoken by an angel, his reason cried out. And still – maybe it was true, his heart whispered.

"So what shall I do now?" Michael asked the one question he could not answer.

"God has given you a heart to feel and a mind to think. What to do when they tell you different things? I can not tell you. Every action has a consequence. Existence is an ever-turning wheel. It will place us where it wills. In the end, all paths lead to the same goal. You will find your way. Sooner or later."

Uriel's answer was a cryptic as if God himself had given it and Michael again felt rage rise in his heart. But before he could complain Uriel got up.

"My duties call." he said, gifting Michael with a gentle smile that made his anger evaporate like mist in the morning sun. "And I think you have places to go, too." Uriel leaned down to him, brushing a last bit of dried blood from his cheek. "They are waiting for you, you know." he whispered so softly that not even God could have heard him. "Have been for a long time now."

Then he walked away, leaving a thoroughly startled Michael behind.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
By Mel

This time I'm mistaken  
For handing you a heart worth breaking  
I've been wrong, I've been down  
Been to the bottom of every bottle  
These five words in my head  
Scream "Are we having fun yet?"  
\---Nickleback

\---

He couldn’t bring himself to go back to Belial, he was too raw to face his brother at the moment. He needed to go somewhere noisy, somewhere that he could lose his mind to, even if it was for a moment. Unfortunately, there were very few places where he knew he’d be welcome around here at this time of day. Oh, he could have always spirited himself off to another city, but at the moment he craved something familiar.

And so his feet led him where he knew they would in the end. There was nothing overly interesting about the doorway that stood between a butchers and a seven eleven. It was dark, hidden almost entirely in shadow. Red letters were faded, dipped like in blood. They seemed to pulse with life, breathing out into the world. ‘Sin’ they read and seemed to call. It was not as strong in the light of day, but when the sun went down the words seem to glow with their own unworldly light, tempting, calling people to its light.

Asmodeus opened the door as if he owned the place. And on one level, he did. Sin was his idea, his club. It lured mortals and tainted them on a scale that boggled the mind. Here perversion, lust and decadence found new meaning, and mortals quite simply gave themselves up to it. It helped that they remembered very little of their visit the next morning, save the craving to go back and the satisfaction of doing something naughty. But that was at night. During the day the place was a welcome place for demons who had nowhere else to go.

He walked down a dirty hallway bathed in pulsing neon blue lights and a set of stairs to a black door where symbols as old as time tempted more than any one demon ever could. He had had to get his brother’s and Lucifer’s help on those, they took more power than the three of them put together. He opened the door and melted into his world.

The first thing one noticed about Sin was that it was dark, almost pitch black. Coloured lights gave enough light to see by, though they were obscured slightly by the smoke from spicy incense that hung in the air. The beat of the music, bone crunching, soul-spinning bass echoed up the walls to the high ceiling. Asmodeus closed his eyes, letting the deep sound that pounded through him ease the ache of his heart. The tired sigh rolled from his tongue and he rolled his head, easing the kinks and stretching the muscles in his neck.

When he opened his eyes, he felt no better. Resigning himself to the fact this feeling wasn’t going away anytime soon, he trudged down and into Sin. There were many short couches which adorned random areas of the room. There was a stage and Asmodeus wondered vaguely who was dancing tonight. Hopefully Liv or Harry, or even both of them. They always drew a big crowd. There was a dance floor beside the Stage and it was large enough to fit a good number of people on it. Now it held only a few demons on it, letting their bodies move to the pulsing beat.

Asmodeus walked passed them to the bar that sat along the back wall. Here one could find the only decent lighting in the whole building, and even then it was just faint enough for the demons that worked behind the counter to see by. The counter was opaque and Asmodeus could see his reflection easily in it. He sat at the furthest end, trying to remain invisible, and leant over, grabbing the first bottle and glass his hands came into to contact with.

Vodka. Not quite his favourite, but it’d do. He upended the bottle, pouring as much into the short glass as he could with out letting it over flow. Asmodeus opened his mouth, letting his lips purse over the rim of the glass before lifting it up with his mouth and tilting his head back. He took the glass in one swallow, without using his hands, letting the alcohol burn down his throat. Placing the glass back on the counter, he began filling it a second time.

”I know a depressive drunk when I see one; what’s thrown a spanner in your works Boss?”

Asmodeus didn’t have to look up to know who was talking to him, he’d know that cheery voice anywhere. Hell, he was the one who said he’d be the best for this job, though Asmodeus was still trying to work out what he’d been on to make that sort of ridiculous decision. He didn’t even bother acknowledging Baal, hoping if he ignored him, he’d go away.

No such luck as Baal came into his eye line. Baal was as tall as Belial, with olive skin and sinful dark eyes, with hair was as dark as his eyes. He wore Sin’s uniform, red leather pants, no shirt, and thick studded collar around his neck. 

The demon Baal gave off an amazingly strong feel of sex and lust, honed only slightly by the disarming smile that could creep across his face at any moment. His hands were running a dishcloth over a glass in a manner that, somehow, managed to look suggestive. Asmodeus barely acknowledged the demon, nothing more then a short glance towards him.

”Piss off, Baal.”

”No,” the demon’s lips curved, eyes sparkling somewhere between worry, lust and something completely Baal-like. ”You look like you could use the company instead of drowning in our alcohol.”

Asmodeus growled. ”It’s mine to do with as I choose, I do run this place!”

”Ah ha,” Baal took the bottle. After a slight struggle the taller demon wrenched it from his grip. ”You’re still not drinking yourself into oblivion. You’re brother would quite happily tear me a new arsehole, thank you very much.” He put the bottle on the back shelf behind him before turning to Asmodeus who was drinking the last of his vodka, looking put out. ”Did you want to talk about it?”

”No.”

”Fair enough. Here, have some water.”

Asmodeus scowled at the water and then at Baal’s turned back. If he had wanted water, he would have dunked his head in the sea. He wanted alcohol, even if he couldn’t get drunk. He wanted something to dull the pain that lanced through his body, needed something to erase the memory of stolen moments with Michael. If he couldn’t forget, he was sure the sight of the fear in Michael’s eyes would send him mad. He shouldn’t have gone, he should have stayed with Belial and slept. Then Michael could have gone on hating them, never knowing how they felt, what their weakness was.

And now, now he would have to live with the fact that Michael knew, and he hated them. Asmodeus was staring at his hands as his knuckles went white against the glass. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself-

Two hands reached around his body, covering his hands, easing over the fine muscles and bones found there. They eased the tension until the death grip on the glass lessened. He felt warm breath ghost over his neck as his throat tightened and he felt a sting at the back of his eyes. No, he was not going to cry.

He wasn’t, not as Belial laid his head on his shoulder. Certainly not as lips found his pulse, touching gently. Michael would just be smug to see him cry.

”He won’t see you here, love.” Damn Belial and his ability to read him like a book. ”Please don’t hide on me, Ami.”

The first of Asmodeus’s sobs seemed to explode from his lungs like a gust of air, seeking relief outside him. The second tore both brothers apart with the force of its sorrow. They didn’t stop with two but continued on and on until the number could not even be counted anymore. Belial drew his brother from the stool, taking him in his arms, murmuring tenderly in an ancient language long since forgotten by mortals.

He caught Baal’s eyes over the top of Asmodeus’ head. The other demon’s deep eyes were full as he looked at them both. Baal was a hopeless romantic after all.

”Let Liv know we’ll be dancing first tonight,” Belial told him, ”can you make the arrangements?” Belial didn’t wait for a reply as he carried his brother from the front room and towards the back and the private rooms he knew to be found there.

~~~~~

Michael wasn’t sure where he could even begin his search for the two demons. Not that he knew what he’d do when he found them. Uriel's words had left him even more confused than before. It had been easier to be angry; at least with fury, he knew where he stood. Now he was completely lost on what he was to do with these new thoughts in his head.

All he knew for certain was that he must find Asmodeus, or Belial, or both if he could help it. He had to talk to them, he had to try and find reasons for these new feelings or else he was sure he’d go mad. Michael didn’t like his chances of going to Hell alone and he was certain the only Angel who would go with him was Uriel and he was busy. So the only other option was to find either of them on Earth. Easier said than done.

For a while, Michael wandered around in a daze, not really sure where he was going. It wasn’t long till he was drawn to the one place in this city that was the most tainted. He looked at the grey door and the red letters in surprise. The sun was beginning to go down and he was surprised to see a line out in front of the plain door. The people in the line weren’t your normal club going group. Some were businessmen and women, some were young mothers or fathers. Some were even grandparents. They were normal people really, all waiting for one thing. To get inside the club.

At the door stood a demon. He was eyeing Michael in interest, obviously an angel wasn’t something he usually saw around here. This would probably be the best place to try and find Belial or Asmodeus, the Angel realised.

With the decision made, he strode toward the door, past the line of people waiting. He was almost surprised when the demon opened the door for him, winking saucily. ”You’ve picked a good night to show up Angel Boy, the boss is dancing.”

Michael managed a look of barely constrained irritation, even though he was intrigued. He hadn’t known Lucifer would lower himself to dancing for mortals. He breezed past the demon and made his way down the corridor that pulsed lightly with the sound of heavy bass.

When he opened the door, the sound assaulted his senses, flowing over him. His nose wrinkled in distaste, he had never understood the human’s need to make sound in such a way. Still, he made his way into the dark. With the line that was outside, he wasn’t too surprised to see the number of people inside skyrocket. He couldn’t believe just how tainted this place felt. The Angels had their work cut out for them if every city had one of these places well established in them.

Making his way to the only lighted place in the room, he threaded his small body through the throngs of people. It was almost like the sea, waves of people, all hands and lingering touches, crashing down on top of him. By the time he reached the bar, Michael was sure he’d been groped in every part known to man.

Michael slipped quickly into a spare stool, breathing a sigh of relief as the crowd seemed to melt away from him. He was grateful really, the thick crowds, especially those being tainted, made him nervous. Resting his elbows on the black expanse of the bar top, he let his head fall into his hands.

What was he doing here? What was this insane urge to talk to two demons who had betrayed him and the trust he had placed in them? And why, oh why, did he long to be near them again? Michael should just leave, and he shouldn’t go near them. He didn’t realise someone had sat themselves next to him until he lifted his head.

And jumped in surprise at the pair of dark coal eyes that stared at him. They belonged to a woman, or more likely, he thought on second glance, a succubus. He now understood what the term meant. This demon was built to taint the most chaste of men and women. Creamy skin moulded over perfect cheekbones and down to full red lips. Dark hair, the colour indistinguishable in the low light, cascaded over the curve of bare shoulders.

She wore an off the shoulder dress made of black lace. It looked as if black spider webs clung to her, leaving nothing to the imagination, clinging to each curve of her graceful body. The dress barely covered her arse and rode up as her body was draped across the bar as she watched him. There was a dark garter encircling one thigh with a crimson ribbon threaded through it. The ribbon continued to crisscross down that one leg till it tied of at a bare ankle, enhancing her bare feet.

Her most prominent feature, however, were the blood red wings that hung around her body for the whole world to see. The feathers were more than slightly ruffled, and on second inspection, her lips they were bruised and parted slightly. Michael did not want his mind to supply the reasons for her state though it seemed to ignore him and do it anyway, causing the Angel to flush ever so slightly. Damn this mortal form.

Her chin rested on her palm, fingers curled as she watched him like a hawk.

”So you’re Michael,” she smiled, lips curving over teeth. ”Always thought you’d be taller.” Michael was not sure how to react to the demon and so settled for returning her stare. She was still smiling as a man wandered past them, hand trailing down the feathered wings and over her arse. She didn’t even flinch, in fact, her back arched slightly and she leaned into the rough caress. She made a soft purring sound at the back of her throat.

”I’m glad you’re here, the boss is dancing.”

”Why would Lucifer lower himself to dance for these,” another man leant over the succubus, whispering in her ear as he caressed her, she had to ask him to leave before she made a gesture for Michael to continue, ”mortals?”

Her smile only seemed to grow. ”And who said that Lucifer was the boss?” The music changed, the beat deepening echoing over Michael’s body. ”Ah, and here they are now.”

Michael’s eyes moved to the stage and his mouth went slack. There, half naked, their chests gleaming in the blue lights of the club, was Asmodeus and Belial and they were both looking straight at him.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
By Beryll

The flames getting higher  
I pray for rain  
and I'm falling  
I'm falling in love  
\---Warlock

\---

It took Michael a long moment to realize that Asmodeus and Belial could not be looking at him. The stage was drenched in burning red light and the light at the bar was so gloomy that it was impossible for them to notice him. Still he tried to make himself even smaller, shrinking behind a broad-backed mortal, who was watching the stage with rapt attention.

The whole audience in the club had gone quiet, when the light on stage had come on, they all seemed to hold their breath and Michael had to admit that he understood perfectly well why. The two demons on stage looked their best. Clad in matching red and black leather pans riding low on their hips, hugging perfectly shaped limbs.

They stood at different ends of the stage. Asmodeus right at the edge, scanning the crowd as if looking for someone, Belial further in the back, seemingly completely oblivious to all the eyes that watched him, running his hands caressingly over his own body, eyes half closed and probably out of focus with passion. And the music wasn't even on yet.

Hands from the people right at the stage stretched to touch Asmodeus when he started prowling the edge like a hungry predator, his eyes still searching the crowd. What was he looking for, Michael asked himself. Some of the hands managed to touch his ankles, the naked skin of his feet and Michael felt desire flair in these mortals.

Then he noticed the low drumbeat, starting oh so slowly. It was like a tide rolling in from far away, gaining momentum and when the wave broke and the club was suddenly filled with the scream of wounded guitars, Asmodeus whirled away from the crowd as if the music had captured him unprepared, as if it had taken hold if his body and now twisted and moved it at its will.

Belial was his counterpoint moving slowly as if only the even drumbeat existed in his world. He seemed to float on the music, his feet always slightly dragging, his hands never leaving his own skin and Michael felt an itch in his own fingers that scared him. He wanted to leave but found his eyes glued to the stage.

Neither of the two demons was dancing for the crowd, he realized. They were dancing only for themselves or - in Belial's case - loving themselves. They were only allowing the people to witness their exquisite beauty and skill.

A deep snarl of anger formed on Michael's lips. Anger and - strangely - envy. Envy because all these worthless mortals were allowed to see what should have been his alone. They had been made for him, they were his. None should witness them like this unless he said so. How dare they... throw themselves away like this. 

It hurt more than he would have expected. It rubbed in the bitter truth of what he had lost all those years ago. They could have been his, had he been just a bit more perceptive.

He watched together with the crowd as they drew nearer and nearer to each other on the stage, waited for them to finally join and gasped with all the others when they passed each other by only an inch. He wanted to see them together, wanted to see them touch each other, wanted to bear witness that they were still able to love even if they were creatures of darkness, wanted to be sure that they at least had each other, if... if they could not have him.

His heart went still with this thought. Yes, truly. That was why he had come looking for them. Not because he wanted answers, not because he wanted to talk to them even. He just wanted to make sure they were all right, that he had not harmed them seriously. How strange to feel so much love in his heart suddenly. It filled him to overflowing with a warmth he had never known before. So different from the warmth that the love of god filled him with. It was the feeling of truly caring for someone that made him understand, what it felt like to be good. And he also realized that he could forgive. That there was no such thing as an unforgivable crime. That god may be relentless but that he himself was not.

Michael watched silently, as Asmodeus and Belial danced on stage. Again and again they passed each other, sometimes inches apart, sometimes their fingertips brushing the skin of the other but always they moved on in their own path, seemingly oblivious to the other person who shared the stage and the dance. He held his breath with the mortals waiting, hoping that they might find each other. There was nothing tainting in their dance, nothing tempting even. Only a quiet, desperate love that hurt the heart, that made every soul in the club cry out for love and affection.

How could demons inspire something so pure, Michael wondered. Shouldn't the crowd have been caught in the throes of passion by now? Shouldn't they grab each other in carnal delights instead of watching the two men on stage search for each other in their dance. He felt the heart of all these mortals go out to the two demons on stage, trying to move their bodies with their sheer well-wishing so they might finally meet.

The song was almost at an end, the screams of the guitars dying down to sad, defeated whispers, the drumbeat far of, a solitary pipe singing a farewell when it happened. Again they had drawn closer to each other again their movements seemed to draw them apart when Belial's hands snaked out from his own body and caught his brother in midstride. Asmodeus stopped transfixed, trembling with the energy trapped in his lean limbs but otherwise utterly still.

Belial's hands ran over his sweating skin and the crowd watched as Asmodeus head sank back, imagining the sigh that might escape him now. The tune of the pipe changed slightly, now not sad but thoughtful, maybe slightly questioning, the drumbeat so low it only reverberated in the blood.

Tension seemed to run like water out of Asmodeus body and Michael watched with fascination as Belial drew him into his arms, gently trailing his fingertips along Asmodeus jaw. Their bodies pressed against each other, both shivering now they sank to their knees, while the pipe changed yet again to a soft love song.

They ended their dance on the floor, kneeling opposite each other, their head resting on the others shoulder, holding each other tight, excluding their audience and all the world to the quiet comfort they shared. Then the lights on stage went out and the pipe ended the song with a long sad note.

"Now that was different." said the succubus next to Michael, reminding him most unwelcome that there was something like reality. "Usually they have sex on stage."

Michael started at her in shock. They did WHAT?

The succubus just smiled at him seductively. "Sooo... angel-boy... what can we serve you with?" 

Michael felt the distinct need to draw his flame-blade and end the existence of this vile creature but right now he had more important matters to take care of. But he made a mental note to take care of the little bitch at another time.

He got of his bar stool ignoring her amused smile and listened to what he heard in his heart. He needed to find them. Needed to find out if they might be willing to forgive all the hurt he had seen in their dance. Needed to see if their was a chance to reclaim what was rightfully his.

They were somewhere behind the stage. He wound his way through the crowd that was now mostly moving towards the bar to wet their throats after the dance they had witnessed. He saw quite a few faces that were streaked with tears, saw total strangers comfort each other. What a strange display.

Finally he found a small black door leading to the staff area behind the stage and Michael was thankful there was no demon guarding it. The last thing he wanted now was a discussion that might end in bloodshed.

The silence on the other side of the door was deafening after the noise in the club. The hallway he stood in was as dimly lit as the club itself and the walls were painted a deep red. Maybe this was not a staff area but just a more private part of the club. Michael's stomach churned with the thought of what it might be used for.

He just followed his instincts to an unmarked black door and opened it without knocking. He didn't want to give them a chance to disappear on him.

What he found was not what he expected. They were not alone. A distinguished looking man in grey suit stood in the middle of the room beaming with happiness. Belial reclined on a giant bed covered with red and black velvet, smiling seductively, while Asmodeus was kneeling in front of the man, about to open his trousers. All three turned when Michael suddenly opened the door, all three looked thoroughly shocked.

Michael noted with faint amusement how Asmodeus recoiled from the man the moment he noticed who had intruded so unexpectedly, but his much stronger emotion was raging anger at the fact that anybody might lay a finger on his... well... they were not his angels anymore but he wanted them to be his none the less.

His voice was brimming with burning rage when he spoke to the man: "Out. Right now."

Whoever the mortal might be, he was smart enough not to question but to make an immediate disappearance. Both demons looked on in open-mouthed astonishment, as Michael closed the door behind him.

Asmodeus caught himself first. "How dare you..." he started to complain, but Michael moved faster than he could talk. Now that he finally knew what he wanted acting came quite easy. He had always been much better at acting than at thinking.

With two strides he was next to Asmodeus, drawing him up from his knees and into his arms to kiss him violently.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
By Mel

Let me dive in  
To pools of sin  
Wet black leather on my skin  
Show me the floor  
Lay down the law  
I need to taste you more  
\---Sarah Brightman

 

Asmodeus stood frozen for a long moment. He was being kissed by Michael, the Angel’s lips attached to his, the soft tongue trying to find entry. What was happening? Michael hated them, didn’t he? Absolutely loathed them, they were Demons, scum, not worth even a moment of his time.

Hello? Michael is kissing *you*, his mind screamed. It was true, what had started out forceful was becoming decidedly more timid and beginning to retract. Well, screw it all, we can figure it out later. Asmodeus let his arms tighten around the Angel, pulling him flush against his body. Fingers threaded through soft feathers and even softer hair, changing the kiss to something deeper, something much more primal.

Michael had been angry. He had been so absolutely furious seeing all those mortals gawking at them, and then to see one in here, about to be touched by them. Angry enough that he had acted as quickly as he could to get what he had wanted, as quickly as possible. But all such emotion had stopped the moment his lips had touched Asmodeus. It was like coming home.

He had never kissed anyone before, he had barely even thought of it beyond the passing wonder. So he could only follow instinct as he pressed his lips against the taller Demon’s. Soft, plaint, parted ever so slightly lips touched at Asmodeus’. His tongue danced lightly against the curve and crease, slipping against theexotic taste. But Asmodeus wasn’t doing anything. Was he doing this wrong? Had he misunderstood? Didn’t they love him anymore? *That* hurt.

But suddenly it was all better as Asmodeus’ arms were suddenly circled around him, tightening, dragging his body ever closer, trying to pull the Angel beneath his skin. Lips moved against his own, tongue snaking passed in between his lips, sparing with his own. And he had thought kissing had felt good before when it was just he doing the kissing. Now it was hot, red hot, burning. Sliding through to his very soul, he found his own hands threading into Asmodeus’ unruly hair. It was soft, fine and silky, sliding though his fingers, fingertips grazing what he knew to be razor sharp edges of the demon’s horns. If this was sin, let me fall right in.

He tastes better than heaven ever did, Asmodeus let his mind wander, his lips easing over Michael’s, allowing the Angel to lead the kiss. He was, after all, the one they had always turned to for guidance, why should that have changed? Asmodeus tried to keep his amusement from showing, though he couldn’t stop the smile that slipped over his lips.

Michael was enjoying this newfound ability to kiss one of the demons he was in love with when he felt Asmodeus smiling, his shoulders shaking slightly with mirth. What was so funny? Michael growled, the sound reverberating through the two of them, echoing off the walls.

Asmodeus pulled back suddenly, a startled yelp issuing from his mouth as his fingers rose to his lips. He turned to Belial, eyes wide in both surprise and slightly ruffled feathers. ”He bit me!”

Belial was laughing even as Michael slipped his arms around his waist, lips finding the bared pale flesh at Asmodeus’ neck. He suckled lightly, tongue tasting the sweaty skin. He nipped lightly, marking the demon. ”Next time it won’t be so light.”

Belial was still grinning as he sat up, body arching like a happy kitty. ”I don’t know what you’re complaining about, I know you’ve had worse.” Asmodeus gave a cheeky smile, watching his brother as he fell forward onto the palms of his hands, crawling towards them, tail curving over his arse and swinging between long legs. He rose up onto his knees, fingers caressing the Angel’s skin lightly, lifting him from Asmodeus neck so that he could taste those sweet, full lips for himself.

The taste of Asmodeus was becoming decidedly addictive and it made it hard as Belial’ s gentle fingers coaxed him from his exploration. Michael found himself staring into a pair of amazingly expressive brown eyes. Lust, love and confusion were at war within them, making him gasp in surprise.

”Don’t you hate us, Michael?” Belial’s voice shook with the raw emotion behind it. ”Don’t we disgust you?” Hope echoed through his words, hope that his words would be met with denial.

I’ve hurt them so much, Michael thought with surprise. I’ve torn their world asunder a number of times in the last few hours, it’s time to sew it back together. He reached out, one arm still wrapped possessively around Asmodeus and this one cupping Belial’s face. The demon fell into the touch, nuzzling the offered hand while chocolate eyes continued to watch the Angel.

”I love you,” Michael whispered, the admission colouring the air around them. ”Both of you. Forgive me for any harm I have caused, and for taking so long to realise my own heart. Please.”

Michael found his lips enveloped by the taller of the two demons, Belial’s lips soft against his own, delicate, parting, tasting him. Asmodeus shifted, his own lips joining theirs, expanding on the sensation. Michael whimpered softly at the loving caress, both brother’s taking turns to explore his lips and mouth thoroughly with their tongues, taking their time to bring him lovingly to a quivering mess.

The Angel was unsure how they made it to the bed, only that Asmodeus was breaking himself from the kiss, easing himself onto it beside his brother. Belial also left him, making Michael cry out at the lost as both brothers disengaged themselves completely from his form. They were there, on the bed before him, arms wrapped around each other as they watched him. Something in their eyes told him not to move, to wait for them. He was glad he listened.

”Michael,” Belial’s voice was amazingly gentle, ”you don’t have to do this.”

What?

Asmodeus was talking before he could voice his thought. ”We are demons, love, we have long since given up on our desire to have you, to love you.”

”We don’t want you to do this because you feel sorry for us, or for some insane kick you may get from pretending you want to be with us.”

”You stand to lose so much, we have already lost it all. Walk out while you still can.”

Michael stared at them, blue eyes wide. Sweet Holy Ghost, they were still trying to protect him. The number of times they had jumped to his defense came flooding back to him. How they must have always loved him, how had he not seen it? And he made the decision that would affect the entirety of his existence.

He took a step towards them. And another one, his hand rose, reaching out for them. Asmodeus took it letting his fingers lace with Michael’s. Belial kissed the laced fingers softly as they tugged him to the bed and their arms.

”I may have a lot to lose, but I’m willing to give it all up. For the two of you. I’d rather have this moment with you then spend an eternity without it.”

The loving confession brought the two sets of lips down onto his again, wet with sweet tears. He licked them clean, feeling them part to allow him the chance to explore. Hands eased his shirt from his body, taking their time to map flesh as they did. Fingers found their way across planes of flesh, over indents, through soft feathers. Michael had never realised just how sensitive his wings were until now. Belial and Asmodeus worshipped his body with their hands and eyes, bringing searing pleasure quickly to the surface. They took their time to touch him, the sounds issuing from his lips driving them insane. A finger brushed over his nipple, bringing a delighted cry into the air, cut off suddenly as Belial’s sweet lips found his again. Michael kissed him desperately, finding an outlet for the sudden sensations in Belial’s mouth.

”You taste so good,” Asmodeus murmured against his flesh, lips joining his hands in the exploration around his body. They sucked lightly at his neck, trailing down over his collarbone, caressing the heated flesh at his collarbone before moving down. ”So sweet, addictive. I could suck you for an eternity and never be tired of it.”

Michael whimpered into the kiss, one hand rising to wrap around Belial’s neck, the other fisting in Asmodeus’ hair. He was drowning in sensation, feeling them love him for the first time. A scream tore through his throat when a hand closed over his growing erection through his loose pants.

Belial lifted his head to smile down at his panting form. ”So responsive,” he dropped a kiss to parted lips, ”so willing. This is all so new to you isn’t it?” Michael could only manage a shaky nod.

”We’re your first?” Asmodeus looked up at him from his bare stomach, his words bringing another dazed nod. ”And we’ll be your last. No one else is going to touch you after this-”

”Unless we want them to. You’re ours Michael,” another kiss, a soft smile, ”as we are yours.”

”Mine,” his fingers caressed lightly, Asmodeus’ lips finding his navel, making his eyes widen.

”Do that again, Ami, he liked that.”

His tongue rimmed the indent of flesh, making Michael gasp and then groan. He tasted him, sweet like sugar with the slight tang of cinnamon. Delicious. Asmodeus dipped his tongue in, feeling Michael shiver around the erotic touch.

Their fingers found the ties of his loose pants quickly, hungry to see them off, to see the whole of him. They were slipped quickly from his body as both demons pulled back, studying him.

They could not believe the beautiful vision that lay before them. Michael was propped up on an elbow, his sweet body facing towards the two of them. His dark curls clung to his scalp, damp with sweat. Cherry lips, bruised and parted waited for them, sapphire eyes filled with equal amounts of lust and love. His slight, perfectly chiselled body was draped over the bed, pale skin enhanced by the dark velvet sheets. His wings fell about his body, feathers mussed and rumpled from fingers delving into them.

He seemed to glow under their combined sight. Growing bold Michael let one trembling hand run up his body to his mouth, sucking one finger between his lips, his cheeks hollowing around it. He ran the hand down his body, tracing the curve of his hip, reaching out and grabbing his arousal. He groaned, head falling back as his fist pumped slowly, savouring the feeling. The natural exhibitionist.

The brother’s let him go for the moment, his hooded eyes watching the two of them. Belial’s hands reached out taking his time to slip the red leather from Asmodeus body, his brother doing the same to him. Free of the leather, their bronzed bodies rubbed against each other. They moved slowly, sensuously, till their heads were at each other’s groins. Michael watched but made no move to interrupt. If anything, his hand moved a little faster on his own arousal.

Two sets of eyes flicked to him for a moment before returning to each other. Two tongues following the same path, danced over heated flesh. The demons were performing a new dance. For him.

Lips kissed in what could almost be called innocent if they weren’t touching the tip of their cocks. Mouths parted, slipping just the head in, tongues twirling around it. They opened wider as together they sunk down the length, swallowing passed their throat. A groan echoed through the room and it took Michael a moment to realise it came from him. Fingers caressed the skin, winding around the two balls nestled, rolling them, kneading slightly. Legs parted to allow better access as, finally, the lips reached the base of their cocks.

They bobbed in time, Asmodeus’ light form atop of Belial’s as sweat began to shine on their skin. Small purring noises came from the two of them, sweet sounds as they slid up and down the flesh. Beautiful. Heavenly. This is what he had missed, though he had never had it to begin with. Being with the two brothers. They still wanted him after all this time.

The demons began to speed up their movements, purrs becoming muffled moans as yes began to roll back in bliss. It would not do to have it end like this.

”Stop.”

As one they let go of each other’s arousal, giving it one last sweet kiss before turning to Michael.

Michael had not been idle. He may never have made love to another being, but that did not make him innocent to the act. Blue eyes watched them as one finger pushed with in his entrance. The demons breath caught, watching it disappear within him, where they longed to go. Michael relished the sensation of being filled as much as he glowed beneath the two sets of eyes that watched him.

It was not long before both demons were up on their hands and knees crawling towards him. They kissed him together, their lips slipping over his even as he eased a second finger into himself, a guttered groan issuing forth around their lips.

Belial moved behind him, his back against the headboard as he pulled Michael back to him. His arms wrapped around the Angel’s smaller frame, kissing the top of his head softly. ”It’s alright, Little Bit.”

Asmodeus’ lips were gentle against his. ”We’ll look after you.” And one of his fingers joined Michael’s two. They stretched him carefully, mewing soft words of encouragement against his hair and lips. ”May I, Michael?” Came Asmodeus’ soft question.

”Please, Ami,” he used his nickname, his blue eyes staring into grey, ”make me complete.”

Asmodeus kissed him again, shifting slightly till the head of his arousal pressed at the angel’s entrance. Belial smiled, staring down at the two of them as his hand wrapped around Michael, making him groan. Asmodeus pushed forward, enough to get his head in before pausing. Michael was panting softly, there was no denying that it hurt, but Michael was a warrior, he’d known pain many a time before. It was time he reminded them of that.

Michael’s legs wrapped around Asmodeus’ waist and in one movement pulled the demon all the way into him. His pained gasp was drowned out as Belial’s lips crushed down onto his, sucking the very life from his bones.

”Full of surprises aren’t you Little Bit?” Asmodeus whispered against his neck, forcing himself to remain still in the tight heat, allowing Michael the time to get use to him.

Michael couldn’t answer with his mouth full of Belial’s questing tongue, but somehow managed to reply to the demon’s taunt in a time-honoured tradition. He flipped him the bird. Asmodeus chuckled against his skin before snapped his hips up, sending a delighted shiver up Michael’s spine.

”Don’t stop,” Michael managed to hiss, ”do that again.”

Asmodeus smiled wickedly before he started to thrust into the Angel, making him whimper. He was so tight, so hot, how long had he desired to do this. He was slow, giving Michael time to get use to the feeling before speeding up, rubbing constantly against the Angel’s prostate.

Michael made no effort to hide the strangled cries that rose in him, letting them spill out as Asmodeus filled him. His free hand, the one that wasn’t buried in Asmodeus’ hair, reached out blindly, grabbing Belial’s slick arousal. He pulled, tugged, in time with Asmodeus. They were not going to last long at this rate.

They didn’t. After millennia of being with out each other, it was all too much. The pent up desire brought them together, brought them crashing down on each other. Belial came first, watching the two men he loved pleasure each other, the hand on his arousal squeezing, making him cry out, coming all over Michael’s hand. Asmodeus’ teeth sunk into Michael’s shoulder, holding back his own scream. The added sensation shattered the Angel and he cried out as he came, screaming their names.

They collapsed, a heap on the bed, their bodies heaving with exertion. Michael did not know where the tears came from, but they were there as he kissed both demons one after the other. ”I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over again.

Both demons took him into their arms, whispering soft comfort words and trading kisses till the tears stopped. Then, wrapped beneath his wings, they cuddled up to him and slept peacefully in each other’s arms.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
By Beryll

There's beauty in the heart of a beast  
fear behind the eyes of a thief  
I know, you know we're all incomplete  
let's get together and let's get some relief  
\--Warlock

\---

Asmodeus woke with the uneasy feeling that something was not quite right. He still lay in Michael's arm and Michael's bright white wing was still wrapped around him, cocooning him in soft feathers. But all his senses tickled with nameless alarm.

The temptation just to snuggle back against the warm angel was almost irresistible, but he hadn't survived all the millennia of war by giving in to a false sense of security.

He tried to disentangle himself from Michael without waking him, but bright blue eyes opened the moment he tried to move and the archangel was immediately wide awake, suddenly moving with the speed of lightning, violently shoving both Asmodeus and the still sleeping Belial from the bed.

For a moment Asmodeus felt terrible pain and fear lance through his heart. Was he so repulsive to the angel, now that Michael had sated his desire?

But then he too noticed the silvery shimmering permeating the air of the room, quickly coalescing to human shapes. Bulky human shapes with sparkling wings and caring naked swords in their hands.

'NO, not now!' he thought desperately, trying to shift back to hell where he would be safe and finding the way blocked by heavenly might. Calling his own armor as well as his long staff in a vain hope that he would be able fight of the heavenly hosts, he glances over at Belial who was just sitting up at the other side of the bed. His brother was still rumpled from sleep, his eyes cloudy with barely shed dreams.

Then his eyes found Michael's, who stood at the foot of the bed, back in his shining white armor but still unarmed. There was confusion in the archangel's eyes, anger as well and maybe even a bit of fear. But most importantly there was no trace of repulsion or hatred directed at Asmodeus and the demon prince realized with shock, that he would gladly die, now that he had been back in Michael's arms at least once.

Then a clear voice cut through the turmoil and Asmodeus turned back to the battle-ready angels with dread. "You will pay for what you have done here, hell-spawn!" It was Gabriel himself and the shining silver blade in his hands looked just as deadly as Michael's flamesword. Asmodeus recoiled from the searing light that shone from the archangel's face, trying to shield his eyes.

He felt Gabriel move towards him and blindly threw himself out of the way, shouting for Belial to get moving. The world around him was awash with brilliant white light that burned him to his core and he could do nothing more than block the strikes directed at him.

Then suddenly hands grabbed him, hands with a grip too strong to break and Asmodeus screamed in fear and rage. But just as suddenly he was wrapped in warmth and the oh so familiar smell of Michael's wings and the clamor of battle was gone as quiet and darkness enveloped him.

For a long moment he leaned against Michael's slight body, trembling, seeking comfort but then one thought pierced his confusion.

"Belial!" he cried and ripped free of the archangel to realize that he was back in hell, right in front of the portal leading to Lucifer's throne room. And that his brother was not present.

He spun on Michael with rage burning in his eyes. "You abandoned my brother to them!" he screamed. "They will rip him to shreds! You... you..."

The archangel raised his hands in a gesture of peace, his eyes full of sorrow. "Ami, I had to... I had to save at least one of you... I could not reach him..."

And with his honest sorrow Asmodeus rage fled to be replaced by heart wrenching pain, tears rising to his eyes. "They will extinguish him..." he whispered helplessly and allowed Michael to draw him back into his arms. "Bell... oh Michael... they will kill my brother..."

It seemed like an eternity that Michael held him like that, again wrapping his wings around the demon prince to shield him from the curious eyes of the lesser demons that emerged from all around to find out whta this commotion was all about.

"Maybe they won't kill him right away," Michael whispered hopefully, "god has decreed his punishment and his angel's may not willfully change it, however much they may wish. Maybe Gabriel will come to his senses in time and just drag Belial up to heaven to be tried. It has happened before..."

Just as his words started to penetrate the haze of desperation that Asmodeus was drowning in, the portal to the throne room burst open, hitting the walls with a clash that reverberated trough half of hell.

It was seldom that the lord of darkness left his lair. It had not happened for many thousands of years that he did so in rage but now he was bristling with fury, his whole body wrapped in a seething aura of purest flame, that made Michael move back in fear. This was not some demon he could fight, this was the first archangel created by god. Fallen angel maybe, but still the most powerful of them all. And his hands held storms of fire, ready to be loosened on any offender.

His voice shook the foundations of hell when he spoke: "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!"

Asmodeus moved just as quickly as Michael had, interposing himself between his lord and his lover, spreading his arms wide to safe the archangel from harm. "It's not his fault," he cried, "he saved me from Gabriel, don't hurt him!"

For a moment the fiery aura around Lucifer seemed ready to erupt in mayhem. Then it subsided as quickly as it had appeared, leaving a lord of hell that looked thoroughly ruffled.

"What the fucking hell is going on here?!" he demanded. "And where is your brother?! This is the second time in as many days that angel boy shows up down here and I sure as hell hope the two of you have a fucking good explanation!"

Asmodeus tried to breath deeply, collecting whatever calm he could to explain to his lord. At least Lucifer would not rip Michael's head off right away. That was something to be grateful for. But how to explain?

But before he could say anything, Michael spoke, arrogant as ever: "I have reclaimed what was always rightfully mine." he stated. "Asmodeus and Belial belong to me again." Both Lucifer and Asmodeus were speechless for a moment, Asmodeus turning around to stare at the audacious archangel in open mouthed wonder.

"You have what?" Lucifer asked, his voice dangerously quiet and this time even Michael noticed that he was on enemy territory. And he reacted quite appropriately, getting down on one knee and bowing his head.

"I love Asmodeus and Belial," he said softly, "and I beg forgiveness for all the hurt that I have caused them. And I..." he swallowed hard and then looked up at Lucifer, "...I also beg forgiveness for what I have done to you."

Hell seemed to freeze with the enormity of these words and Asmodeus almost expected god's wrath to strike Michael down for what he had just done. But nothing happened.

Lucifer drew breath very slowly, running one hand through his unruly hair. Then he moved forward until he stood right in front of the kneeling archangel. Very gently he cupped his jaw but his expression was stern when he spoke.

"What you did to me, was done in ignorance, child. I will forgive that. But what you did to Asmodeus and Belial is not for me to forgive. You will have to earn them before you may claim them."

For a long time their eyes remained locked and Asmodeus was not quite sure what was going on between the two of them. He was more than ready to forgive Michael anything. But there seemed to be a deeper understanding between the archangel and the lord of hell, when Michael nodded slowly. "I understand." he whispered. "I will."

"Good." Lucifer smiled grimly. "Now where is Belial?"

And with that simple question all his sorrow came crashing down on Asmodeus again. "The angels have taken him." he whispered.

"Is that so...?" A crooked grin appeared on Lucifer's face. "Well, it was inevitable that there would be a confrontation sooner or later. Better now. I feel like getting rid of some long saved up aggression." He eyed Michael cheerfully who shifted uncomfortable under his gaze.

"What do you say, angel boy? Feel like starting your compensation? How about you give me a lift to heaven. There is a couple of things I need to discuss with some prissy angels and my wings seem to have gone missing..."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11   
By Mel

Never made it as a blind man,   
Couldn't cut it as a poor man stealin'   
Tired of living like a blind man   
I'm sick of sight with out a sense of feeling.   
\---Nickleback 

 

It's hard to believe how quickly it all happened. One moment Belial was sleeping quite peacefully, the next he woke with a start and more than a little bewildered on the floor. Ami was standing with Michael, eyes shifting wildly around the room. He had been about to ask what was going on when the first silver pearls of sound announced it for him. Angels. From heaven. Well didn't that just throw a spanner in the works? 

White wings and blinding armour penetrated their ready made gloom, pretty much blinding them. Scrambling to his feet, Belial conjured armor and his weapon of choice, his bow, to his hand, but barely had time to use it as one of the Angels was already upon him. The bow made for very little defense against the sword that crashed down on him, but he blocked as much as he could. 

His dark eyes found Michael in the confusion of the attack. His Angel seemed torn as their eyes locked. Belial did the only thing he could do. 

"Get Ami out of here!" 

Time splintered as Michael, faced with the worst decision anyone had to make, looked into his eyes. Nothing else mattered, not the Angel bearing down on him, not the sharp sting of the sword as it sliced across his cheek. And Michael nodded painfully, the next words falling from his lips.

"I love you." 

And then time reasserted itself, and Michael grabbed Asmodeus as they disappeared, back to hell. Belial actually sent a thankful prayer heavenward, though it seemed mighty ridiculous, considering who was attacking him. He let the bow drop, sinking to his knees, the fight leaving his body completely. Ami and Michael were safe, that was all that mattered.

Gabriel, Asmodeus' assailant, growled in frustration at the disappearance of the Angel and Demon. He let his sword drop, looking over at Belial. If he noticed the defeated posture, he didn't let it show, looking at the demon before him with contempt. 

"Bring him, he will have to answer to the others," Gabriel muttered, still furious, where had Michael run to? Couldn't he see they were trying to save him? Gabriel lent forward, looking into dead chocolate eyes. "You're going to wish we destroyed you now, hell spawn." 

Going to? Belial already wished for it. For a moment, everything had been perfect, and he had slept in the arms of his Angel. But they were safe, away from Angel's that would punish them for the love they had. All was left now was to fade away... 

~~~~~~ 

Belial had forgotten what it was like to fly. With his wings cut off for such a long time, the simple sensation of soaring above the clouds had been lost to him. But Belial found no beauty in it. No delight or wonder. No chance for a gentle hold within the arms of them. His first flight should have been with Michael and Asmodeus, not in the iron grip of two furious Angels. 

They rose far above the world below, higher and higher, shifting through light clouds towards heaven. Why had they not extinguished him before hand? Why wait? Unless, of course, they had developed a new kind of torture to leave him with his thoughts for as long as possible. Belial wouldn't have put it past them; Angels had a habit of kicking a demon when he was already down. 

It was incomprehensible for Belial to even think that he would be saved. The risks involved in such an action were numerous. If he allowed himself the thought. he would have hoped they would stay out of harms way. But the thought did not cross his mind. Just that he would be gone soon, and Little Bit and Ami were safe. Luci would look after them. He wouldn't let them do stupid things. They were safe, and they would never forget him. Belial would live forever in their hearts. 

Belial wished he had had time to tell them how much he loved them.

The gates of heaven were as he remembered them. Pillars of marble and gold that were mostly for show were beautiful in their own right. Once upon a time, simply seeing the gates was enough to bring peace. Now he looked upon them with an empty heart, all their beauty was wasted on him. 

Angels milled at the gates, watching their comrades return. Belial wondered vaguely if he would be strung up like a prize turkey or slaughtered here like cattle, before deciding he didn't really care anymore. He was too empty to even cry. 

One Angel flew out to meet them, and Belial recognised the dark form of Uriel. Uriel was the only Angel Belial had met on his trips to earth. The banter they had kept in heaven was true on earth, and the Angel and Demon had got along quite well. The Angel who escorted human souls to heaven had always been ready to trade insults with the demon or listen to him when something weighed heavily on his mind. Though he never spoke of Michael, Belial was sure Uriel had picked up on it a lifetime ago. 

"Have you found Michael yet?" Were the first words out of Uriel's mouth as he reached them. Belial cringed slightly at the sound of his lover's name. This was not going to go down well. Uriel's dark eyes blue landed on him, and Belial had to force himself not to look away. He would not feel bad for what had happened between them, only that Michael had given up everything for their love. And in a way, so had he. 

Uriel said nothing as he studied him only, nodding to himself and then turning to Gabriel. "Bring him in, I must speak with Metatron." 

"Where shall we put this foul creature till you are done?" Gabriel spat. 

Uriel thought for a moment. "There is a place, come, I will show you."

~~~~~~ 

Belial would have laughed at the idea of heaven having a single cell, if he wasn't so empty. They shoved him in there as if he were a piece of meat, and Belial stayed where he fell. He ached for them already, his heart shattered just a little more with every passing thought. He was never going to see them again. 

He had no doubt the Angels were already discussing what they would do with him. Gabriel was probably already explaining how they found them, only with words like 'sinful' and 'wicked' added to the description. 'Love' would never be added into the description, even though that was precisely what it was. Love in perhaps its purest form, because only love could bring an Angel and two Demons together. 

The pain was continuous now. Belial felt nothing, but his love for them and the loss tear at his soul. Soon the Angels would not need to do anything, he would fade away on his own. He would never see Ami's wicked grin or feel Michael's gentle touch. They would never be able to take Michael to the movies and molest him in the back row, and Michael would never be able to show them what it was like to soar again. 

Belial could not tell how much time had passed, though it felt like days, when the cell door opened again. He didn't move, he couldn't bring himself to even try. If they were going to extinguish him, they could do it already; he'd had enough of living with his thoughts.

Uriel knelt down besides Belial, long hair falling in front of his face as he looked down into Belial's face. "I can see what happened to you. You look as if someone has stolen all that is precious to you." 

"You have," Belial's voice sounded odd to his own ears, gravely from no use and heavy with the pain he felt. 

Uriel actually had the grace to look devastated by the demon's admission. "Do you truly love Michael, Belial?" 

"I do," Belial whispered with such reverence that one would think Michael was god to him. 

"I wish I could do more for you, the Seraphim have all but decided," Uriel reached out, pushing Belial's hair from his face, brushing lightly at the wound on his cheek. 

"Please end this as soon as possible." 

"I shall try, Belial, I shall try." 

~~~~~~ 

When they came back there were three of them. It was almost as if they expected him to put up a fight. Belial didn't move as they reached down to pick him up, lifting his prone body by his upper arms. They dragged him from the cell, his feet scraping the ground. He was still in his armor, dark colour reflecting against the white of heaven. 

Were they finally going to kill him now? Good. He kept replaying their last moments together before the Angels had ruined it all. Making love, exploring Michael's beautiful body for the first time and then falling asleep beneath his wings. For a while, Belial had actually felt complete. Ami had always been enough, because they had always thought Michael was far beyond their reach. 

But he wasn't now. And for a while, Belial had gotten to hold him. To love him. There wasn't anything more perfect in this world than that. Not even God could take that away from him. 

The courtroom was as grand as the rest of Heaven. It was amazing that the place even existed here where all things were supposed to be perfect. The falling of so many Angels must have opened a few eyes, Belial decided. The room was full of Angels, many of who were once Belial's friends. Once upon a time, he had gotten along with these beings. Now he could all but cut through the hostility in the room that was directed at him. So Gabriel had been talking about him. 

Their voices were not hushed and most certainly not pleasant, they made no move to hide how disgusted they were with the demon before them. What had happened to their holy forgiveness, Belial thought furiously as he was dumped on the floor before the remaining Archangels. But he did nothing, curling instead, his cheek pressing into hard, cold stone floor. 

He was never going to see Ami or Michael again. Nothing else mattered here anymore. 

"Stand up." 

Normally the voice of Metatron was something that was not ignored. One of the highest of the Archangels, the voice of God, a Seraphim who was both wise and just. He inspired the younger Angels around him, though Guardian Angels were prone to turn to Uriel as he spent so much time with mortals. But Metatron's voice was never ignored, not by Angels or Demons, Luci was the only one prone to telling him where to go. 

But Belial ignored him. His thoughts were full of only one thing. He was never going to see his Ami or Little Bit ever again. His heart pulsed with burning anguish with every second that passed. 

Metatron's bright blue eyes glared down at the once angel before the Seraphim. He motioned for the Angels to lift him up again, bringing him up like a rag doll to look to the Angels before him. All looked furious, though Belial was pleased to note that Michael's position was empty. Only Uriel's face was carefully schooled to be blank, though if you knew what you were looking for you could see the sadness deep in his eyes. 

"You have willfully defiled one of his Lords chosen, hell-spawn. Do you have anything to say before your sentence is carried out?" 

Belial looked at him, eyelids heavy. He just didn't care anymore. "Do you know I was one of you? Do you even remember? We were friends once." He looked to the other Seraphim, Gabriel was still furious, though the strawberry blonde head of Raphael was not looking at him. "I love Michael, I would do nothing to defile him. Nothing that he would not go into willingly. You know him, he would have rather died than given up that part of his soul to someone he didn't want to give it to." 

"I was only ever an Angel for him," Belial's words became a whisper spoken in the silent chamber, because I loved him. Do your worst, as nothing else can be worse than what you have already done. You have ripped me from all that means anything in my existence." The tears fell now, freely, blurring hisvision of the Angels before him. They cascaded down his cheeks, falling to the floor, the pain of it all making him shake in his captors' arms. "I am never going to see Ami or Michael again," he sobbed brokenly, unaware of the devastation he now caused among the Angels as he fell to his knees. "Stop torturing me, finish this. Please." 

At the begged whisper, Metatron stood. "Belial, demon prince of the underworld, for touching that which is most holy, you shall cease to exist in this world or the next. The sins, which you have committed, are irrevocable. May you go with the grace of God." 

"Thank you." 

Gabriel moved to step forward, but was stopped by Uriel. Confusion set into green eyes as Uriel took the sword from Gabriel's hand, the silent Angel stepping forward to the demon. The room was silent as he lifted the sword up above Belial's bowed head. "Forgive me." 

"Thank you my friend, look after him for me." 

Uriel shed one tear, rolling down his face, dying on his lips as the sword came down...


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12  
by Beryll

I was so blind  
that I never knew  
Faith and strength  
are one in you  
I can't understand why I lost so much  
cause I was hardly touched  
\--Nuclear Valdez

\---

The sword descended in a perfect arc, aiming for the exposed neck of Belial kneeling before Uriel, head bowed in defeat. There seemed to be no possible thing at all that could have saved him and the despair in Uriel's heart was dark indeed.

He did not notice the sudden ripple run through the air next to him, did not notice the figure suddenly materializing. Only when a hand shot out and stopped the blade in the last possible moment was he able to tear his gaze from the condemned demon to look into the burning eyes of Lucifer himself.

An almost soundless gasp went through the ranks of the angels assembled and they recoiled from the source of all their fears. The silence in the great courtroom was so thick that he threatened to suffocate those in attendance. Even the archangels were shocked into mute staring.

All eyes were fixed on the prince of hell, the fallen one. None even noticed another demon prince and Michael quietly slipping in through the doors.

It was Lucifer's voice, silken and as pleasing to the ear as ever, but now boiling with barely suppressed rage, which finally broke the silence. "It is not for you to decide the fate of this fallen angel." he said, steel ringing in his words. "He was condemned to eternal suffering by god himself. Do you now dare rebell as well?"

A faint sound that could only have been described as a squeak was heard from Metatron, but Gabriel was suddenly on his feet, his bright green eyes burning with a rage just as fierce as Lucifer's. He was so angry he needed a moment to even find words.

Lucifer used that moment looking over at him, smiling suddenly with all his charm. "Ouch..." he said and let go of the blade with fell uselessly from Uriel's fingers, crashing to the white marble floor with a noise that made everyone wince. Lucifer just raised his hand and looked thoughtfully at the deep cut in the palm of his hand, carelessly allowing his blood to drip down, staining the pristine white of heaven.

Then he looked at Gabriel again. "Your blade his damned sharp." he muttered. Gabriel was over the low railing that separated the judges from their intended victim in a heartbeat, wings spread wide, obviously intend on ripping Lucifer's heart out. And still the eerily quiet held sway.

But the attacking archangel was intercepted by another figure in shinning armor with white wings spread to protect those now dearest to his heart. Michael caught Gabriel in midair, wrapping powerful arms around him and holding him back.

"No!" he shouted, his voice finally bringing back life to the courtroom, making all of the angels turn their attention to him with surprised noises. "You will not harm them, Gabriel!" He grabbed the other angel but his right wing painfully, turning him so Gabriel must look at him. "I love Belial. And I love Asmodeus. You know that it is true. That it had always been true! Before you harm them you will have to extinguish my soul!"

Now pandemonium broke loose in the ranks of the angels, all demanding to know what this was supposed to mean at once.

Asmodeus used the confusion to move over to his brother, who was still kneeling on the floor, even more confused than the angels. He knelt next to him and hugged him tightly, burying his face in his brother hair, inhaling his scent deeply, the clamor of the angels and the mortal danger they were in momentarily forgotten. "You are alive..." he whispered, almost sending a prayer to god in gratitude.

"Ami...?" A shaky hand touched his face and them Belial's arms wrapped around him just as tightly, holding on to him like to a lifeline.

Lucifer looked down at the two demons kneeling by his feet and allowed a faint smile to cross his lips. Now he would just to get all of them out of here in one piece, he mused. Looking up again he noticed Uriel was looking at the two demons just as fondly, one hand brushing a tear from his face that would haven fallen had he been forced to kill Belial.

Maybe even angels were not beyond hope, Lucifer mused. Then he brought his attention back to Michael and Gabriel who were shouting at each other, trying to be even louder than the angels around them.

Lucifer shook his head in disgust. Absolutely nothing had changed in heaven since he had been thrown out, a couple of millennia ago. Gabriel was still the same asshole as ever. But one sexy asshole, Lucifer mused, as he moved closer to the two archangels. What a waste of good looks.

"You don't know what you are doing!" Gabriel just shouted at Michael, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him. "It is just an infatuation. It will pass once they are gone for good. It is not too late to safe your soul!"

Lucifer coughed next to them to gain there attention but was completely ignored. "I have been in love with them since they were created and it will not pass!" Michael shouted back, just as infuriated. The archangel of war was quickly losing his temper and it was now only a matter of time till he would draw his flameblade on the other angels. Something that Lucifer very much wanted to prevent. He had come here to talk, not to start another bloody war that would make everybody suffer.

"Michael, listen to reason! Do you want to be cast from heaven because of that scum?!"

"Heaven is empty without them anyway!"

"You are mad! This is all..."

"My fault." Lucifer interrupted the two angels, this time loud enough to make himself heard. "Now will you two shut up and listen to me."

He got the reaction he had expected. Gabriel tried to pull out of Michael's grip, calling his silver blade to his hand. "I should have finished this ages ago!" He growled. "You will not corrupt him as well."

Before he could actually attack the fire of Michael's flame blade was between him and Lucifer. "You will not hurt him either!" Michael hissed, his eyes now burning with his legendary rage.

Exactly what Lucifer had not wanted. Fuck, he thought. "Michael, that's very kind of you." he said, trying to make his voice sound as amused as possible under the circumstances, "But I really don't need your protection. He can't kill me. No one can. That's part off the curse god has put on me. And believe me, Gabe here has tried plenty..."

With a howl of rage Gabriel slammed his sword into the ground, breaking the marble as well as the blade, the sound finally quieting the confused angels.

"I may not be able to kill you," Gabriel whispered in the sudden silence, "but I sure as hell am going to kill Belial and Asmodeus."

Michael opened his mouth to speak but another figure in the room was faster this time. Metatron rose from his chair in a fluid motion, the light suddenly shining from his whole body drawing the attention of everyone. And when he spoke, it was clear that god spoke through him.

"ENOUGH! THERE WILL BE NO WAR IN HEAVEN! SEND THE CONDEMNED BACK TO WHERE THEY BELONG!"

A slow smirk spread on Lucifer's lips. He had counted on this. He knew that god would not allow bloodshed in his pristine halls again. He still remembered the pain of his creator when it had happened the first time. He did not feel pity, but he was quite able to use what he knew of god. Now he just hoped the old man had learned some reason in the past millennia and would not cast Michael from heaven as well.

"MICHAEL!" The archangel of war dropped to his knees, fearfully awaiting judgement. "YOU HAVE DEFIED THE WILL OF YOUR LORD! YOU HAVE BROUGHT THE FALLEN ONE BACK TO HEAVEN! YOU SHALL BE PUNISHED! YOU ARE STRIPPED OF YOUR TITLE! YOU MAY NEVER ENTER HEAVEN AGAIN!"

Michael slumped to the ground in despair, Belial and Asmodeus hurrying to his side immediately, but Lucifer's grin got wider. 'Stripped of his title, may never enter heaven again' he recalled his own judgement quite well and the crucial part was missing in this one. No 'you shall exist in eternal darkness' and even more importantly, Michael got to keep his wings.

Looking at the angels, he knew that they had not realized this yet. Gabriel had wrapped his wings around himself and was walking away slowly, sadness emanating from him in waves and Lucifer felt almost sorry for the proud archangel. He had fought so hard for Michael's soul. And had lost.

Metatron had sat back down heavily after god had left him, his face now hidden behind his hands in defeat, Raphael was still staring in muted confusion. And Uriel... Lucifer turned around and just caught the hint of a smile in the corner of the somber angel's mouth. Uriel seemed quite content.

Lucifer walked over to where Michael was still kneeling with Belial and Asmodeus next to him, their arms wrapped around him in consolation, and prodded the former archangel with his foot. "Come now, little bit," he said gently, "we are not welcome around here anymore. Let's find a better place to celebrate that Bell is still breathing."

Obviously that was exactly what Michael had needed to hear, just a little reminder that he had achieved what he had set out to do. Because suddenly his arms where around both Belial and Asmodeus, hugging them tightly and wrapping his pure wings around them as well. "I love you." Lucifer heard Michael whisper inside that white cocoon and his smile got even wider when he heard the two demons answer in kind.

He allowed them a moment longer, keeping an eye on the angels, that were slowly filing out of the courtroom with confused stares in his direction. Then he prodded Michael again and this time all three of them got up.

"Thank you, my lord." Belial said, bowing deeply to Lucifer. The gratitude shinning in his eyes was so bright it illuminated Lucifer's heart more than god's light ever had. For it was not only his life that Belial thank him for but also the fact that Michael was forgiven what he had done to the Lightbringer, that Lucifer accepted their love so easily.

They left heaven like they had come, materializing just outside the gates, facing an unanticipated problem. "I can carry only two of you..." Michael said, gazing from one to the other.

"How about I give you a lift down." another voice said next to Lucifer and they all realized that Uriel had quietly followed them. 

Lucifer smiled. "That would be most gracious."

Together they watched, as Michael spread his wings, one demon in each of his arms. And them they were in the air, soaring away from heaven and their shared joy was so strong it shone around them, rivaling the morning sun.


End file.
